


Under the Cover of Paradise

by orderlychaos



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Action, BAMF Clint, BAMF Phil, First Kiss, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Mission Fic, Pretend Married, Smart!Clint, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-18 15:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1433629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orderlychaos/pseuds/orderlychaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an undercover mission involving Melinda May gets complicated, Clint Barton and Phil Coulson are sent to join her.  The only problem?  The mission involves a <em>couples-only</em> resort on a tropical island, which is about the worst location Phil can think of if he wants to keep his raging crush on his asset a secret.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, like most missions involving SHIELD, things aren't that simple.  Can Clint and Phil untangle the mystery of the mission AIM scientist, kidnapped couples and act like a couple on their honeymoon - all while keeping their mutual pining a secret?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission Parameters

**Author's Note:**

> This fic could not have been written by a heap of cheerleading by a lot of people. I just want to say thank you to everyone who has listened to me complain and rant about this fic, and all those amazing people who helped me finish it <3
> 
> A special thanks to Kisleth, who helped read over it and who had the fabulous idea about the cypher. All credit for that should go to her brilliance. Thanks, hun <3
> 
> And to Jules, for all your cheerleading <3
> 
> This fic is finished and mostly edited, but because it takes so long, I am going to post one chapter a day until they're all up :)

Phil Coulson sighed, dropping the mission file he’d been reading onto his desk.  The details swam in his exhausted mind, tumbling over each other, until Phil couldn't make sense of them anymore.  He’d spent every night for the last week going over the sitreps and intel briefings, trying to find what he was missing.  Something was niggling at him, but constantly reviewing the same information wasn't helping him find out what.  It also wouldn't change the way his recent mission to Singapore had imploded badly enough to land Natasha in Medical.  Pushing aside his lingering guilt and frustration, Phil rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and reached for his coffee cup, only to find it cold and empty.  Grimacing, Phil realized that he was awake on the wrong side of dawn.  Again.

At the sound of a knock on his office door, Phil glanced up, only to find Jasper Sitwell leaning casually against the frame.  The grin on Jasper's face sent a dull throb spiking through Phil's temples, but Phil ignored the building headache with familiar ease.  He sent Jasper a flat look.  “I want coffee before I deal with it,” he said.  “I don’t care if the planet is exploding.  I want coffee first.”

Jasper arched an eyebrow.  “Someone’s grumpy this morning,” he muttered.  “Please tell me you haven’t been going over those mission reports all night?   _Again_?”

“I’m missing something,” Phil told him.

“Sleep, Coulson,” Jasper replied.  “You’re missing _sleep_.”

Phil glared at him for a moment, before deflating with a sigh.  Jasper was right.  Sleep would help - Phil just couldn’t make himself stop for long enough.  SHIELD might not consider his recent mission a failure, but Phil still blamed himself for what had happened.  Even though the strike team had managed to apprehend all but one of the AIM scientists, the cost had been too high.  It wasn’t just Natasha’s injuries, although that would have been enough.  There was still one AIM scientist on the run with an unknown amount of data and that was one too many.  There had been no sign of Edvin Kiraly since the raid in Singapore and Phil was really hoping Kiraly hadn't gone rogue.  So far, R&D assured Phil that there was no indication that any of the scientists had been successful in completing the development of a mind-control drug, but they’d recovered enough animal test subjects and research notes from the facility to be worrying.  AIM had a reputation for recruiting scientists that had little, if any, moral scruples.  Whatever the effects, the drug they were attempting to develop was guaranteed to be horrific.  Phil had witnessed AIM’s ‘results’ before.

“I need to figure out what happened,” Phil said quietly.

Jasper sent him a sharp look, as if he knew exactly what Phil was thinking.  Phil’s protective feelings towards his assets weren’t a secret.  Jasper alternately appreciated and teased him for them.  “I might be able to help with that,” Jasper said.

Phil blinked.  “How?”

“It’s complicated,” Jasper replied.  “Besides, Fury wants to see us.  You’ve got a new mission.”

Rising to his feet, Phil reached for the suit jacket that was hanging from the back of his chair and narrowed his eyes at Jasper.  “What new mission?”

Jasper’s default deadpan expression slid back into an amused smirk that instantly made Phil wary.  “Oh, I don’t want to spoil the details,” he said.

Arching an eyebrow at Jasper’s clear enjoyment of the situation, Phil followed him out of the office, only just remembering to grab his coffee mug on the way out the door.  The New York offices of SHIELD weren’t that busy yet this early in the morning, but the corridors were still bustling with agents.  Phil easily kept pace with Jasper at they headed to the briefing room near Nick Fury’s office, nodding at the few familiar faces he saw.  On the way, they passed the operations hub, protected behind its bullet-resistant glass walls.  The large, wall-mounted screens linked directly into SHIELD's international intelligence network, constantly monitoring active missions and streaming up-to-date information on high-priority targets.  Inside, Sharon Carter was overseeing the junior agents on duty, her blue eyes sharp and assessing.  As Jasper and Phil walked past, Jasper waved jauntily.  Carter rolled her eyes, sending Jasper a two-fingered, mocking salute in reply.

Taking the opportunity to make a pit stop, Phil ducked into the nearby break room.  He wanted a fresh cup of coffee before he found someone to tell him what was going on.  When he saw who else had taken refuge inside, Phil’s footsteps faltered for half a second.  He’d already known that Clint Barton was finally back on base, but there was a difference between hearing that and _seeing_ Barton standing, half-slumped, against one of the benches.  Despite the bruises and scratches, something deep in Phil’s chest unclenched with relief at the sight of Barton home safe.  Phil couldn’t help it, but he hated every mission where he wasn’t the voice in Barton’s ear.  It had nothing to do with the archer - Barton was both highly-trained and very good at staying alive.  There was just a part of Phil's mind that inevitably couldn't completely concentrate, no matter the crisis, when Barton was in the field without him.

As if in defiance of the early hour, Barton's scruffy, dirty-blond hair was standing up at even odder angles than usual.  His eyes narrowed with exhausted frustration, Barton glared at the coffee pot, apparently willing it to brew faster by the power of his mind.  Phil wanted to smile, but the the dark purple shadows underneath Barton's usually bright eyes detracted from Phil's amusement.  Barton looked like it was only a combination of the bench he was leaning against and his own inherent stubbornness that was keeping him upright.  Phil wanted nothing more to hustle Barton out of there and give him a quiet place to rest, like the couch in Phil’s office.  Or maybe even the bed in Phil’s apartment, which would be completely inappropriate, but it didn’t stop Phil thinking it.  There were a lot of things about Barton that prompted inappropriate and sometimes competing desires in Phil.

It didn’t help that Barton was one of the most distractingly attractive men Phil had ever met.  Even when he was at HQ, Barton rarely dressed in anything other than his field uniform, no matter what Phil tried to bribe him with.  Phil constantly found his thoughts side-tracked by the way the dark fabric hugged Barton’s biceps and stretched across his impressive chest.  Combined with Barton's mesmerizing eyes, which shifted from blue to green to grey depending on the light, and it was a wonder that Phil had managed to hang onto his sense of professionalism.  These days Phil was lucky if he could get through a week without experiencing the urge to peel Barton out of his ridiculously tight t-shirt and and drag him off towards the nearest flat surface.  Thankfully, for all his inappropriate thoughts about Barton, Phil was also long practiced at ignoring them.

“Hey, Coulson,” Barton said in a gravelly voice, before he rubbed a hand over his face.  Then he yawned.

“Did you get any sleep?” Phil asked quietly, moving towards the archer as Barton made a sound of triumph and grabbed the pot of now-brewed coffee.

Unable to help the small smile that crossed his face, Phil watched Barton scowl at the sugar bowl and dump six spoons of sugar into his coffee cup.  “Not really,” Barton said.  “Just a catnap in the quinjet on the way back.”

Phil winced in sympathy.  Barton had just gotten back from Taiwan, where he’d coordinated a strike team to assist an ongoing operation Maria Hill was running.  After the combination of that and the fallout from the mission to Singapore, Phil wasn’t surprised to find Barton looking a little rough around the edges.  However, before he could say anything else, Jasper appeared in the break room doorway.  “We’re on,” he called out.

Grabbing his own coffee, Phil headed towards the briefing room just behind Jasper.  When Barton followed, Phil turned to raise an eyebrow in question and Barton scowled in reply.  “What makes you think Jasper said anything to me either?” he said.  “You know how he likes being all mysterious and inscrutable and shit.”

Phil felt his lip twitch in a hint of a smile.  “Of course,” he said dryly.

Walking in, Phil paused long enough to give Jasper a pointed look at the fact that the glass-walled room was empty before he took a seat.  Jasper just smirked again.  A minute later, Nick Fury entered the room in a swirl of black leather, his jaw clenched and his eye narrowed in the way Phil usually only saw right before things went FUBAR.  Behind him, Natasha Romanoff hobbled in as Nick held the door open for her.  Natasha was still limping badly even with a cane and Phil felt his stomach clench at the evidence of how badly she’d been hurt.  She  was dressed in a pair of loose black pants and a white tank top underneath what looked like one of Barton’s hoodies.  Her vibrant red hair was pulled back from her face, revealing the stark white bandage hiding the remaining stitches above her eye.  Lower herself carefully, Natasha took a seat opposite Phil and gave him a small smile in greeting.

“We have a situation on our hands,” Nick said, as he took a seat at the head of the table.  His voice immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

“What kind of situation, sir?” Barton asked, half-slumped in his chair beside Phil and cradling his coffee mug against his chest.

Nick flipped a switch to darken the glass walls.  “A bad one.”  He fixed Barton with a pointed glare.  “As some of you are aware, Agent May is currently on an extended undercover assignment.  However, during her last scheduled check in, she passed along some concerning information.”

Behind Nick, a screen flickered into life, bringing up the familiar sight of an intelligence dossier.  Phil’s eyes widened slightly when he caught the AIM logo at the top of the screen.  “I wasn’t aware Agent May was on a mission involving AIM,” he said.

“The short answer is she wasn’t.  The connection to AIM was completely unexpected,” Nick said with a frown.  He shot Phil a look.  “As of three hours ago, we have reason to believe Agent May’s mission has a connection to your operation in Singapore two weeks ago.”

“Jesus,” Barton muttered.  “I thought we’d shut down AIM’s mind control drug experiments.”

“So did I,” Nick replied grimly.

Inwardly, Phil grimaced.  The Singapore mission had more consequences than he’d thought.  “If it wasn’t to do with AIM, what _was_ Agent May investigating?” he asked.

Behind Nick, the screen changed as the documents were replaced by the photos of six men and two women.  All the faces looked vaguely familiar to Phil in a way he couldn't quite place, almost liked he'd seen them on the news.  Other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything about the people that stood out as unusual.  “For the last three months, Agent May and I have been leading a team that was investigating a series of disappearances,” Jasper said, taking over the explanation.  “The victims are all wealthy and reasonably high-profile, but aside from the fact they all have money, there’s no link between them.  They don’t have any shared business interests or social connections, and they disappeared from different locations all over the world.  The kidnappings don’t fit a particular profile either - two of the men were alone when they vanished and the rest were kidnapped with their wife or partner.”

“What about their families?” Phil asked.  “Have there been any ransom demands?”

Jasper shook his head.  “No, nothing,” he replied.  “We originally assumed the victims were taken to exert influence over a powerful family member, but there’s been no evidence of blackmail.  What’s even weirder is that there’s been no news coverage about any of the disappearances.  The families and friends all received vague emails about extended vacations and business trips - and no one seems to question it when the victims don’t show up again.”

Barton frowned, his gaze flicking from the photos back to Jasper.  “If there’s been no news coverage and no ransom demands, how did SHIELD get involved?” he asked.  “And, for that matter, why is this a SHIELD issue?”

Nick grimaced.  “Because one of the victims was kidnapped while he was under SHIELD surveillance.”

Phil frowned.  SHIELD agents were supposed to be better than that.  “Do we have any leads on the disappearances at all?” he said.

“One,” Jasper said, frowning.  “It’s a small resort in the Whitsunday Islands off the coast of Queensland, Australia.  Two of the kidnapped couples vacationed there just before they disappeared.  One couple emailed their friends to say they’d decided to go hiking in Malaysia on their way home, and the other reportedly flew back to the resort two months after their first trip.  There’s no evidence either couple arrived at their destination, so Agent May went undercover as a staff member to find out if the resort was involved somehow.  So far, she’s found nothing concrete.”

“So how _exactly_ does this involve us?” Clint asked with another narrowed-eyed look.

Nick tapped a few buttons and a map of the islands appeared on the screen behind him, before the map was magnified and joined by what appeared to be a live satellite feed.  Phil traced the layout of the island with his eyes, his mind already planning strategies and points of attack.  “That’s where things get complicated,” Nick replied.

“ _How_ complicated?” Barton asked.

“In addition to the resort having a potential connection to the kidnappings, a cargo ship with known black market connections has been sighted in the area.  If AIM is somehow involved in this mess, they - or maybe just our rogue scientist - could have a base nearby,” Nick answered.  “We need to confirm it’s there before we can send in a team to shut it down.”

“And Agent May can’t do that?” Phil said, surprised - Melinda was a very skilled agent.

Jasper grimaced.  “The resort staff are highly suspicious and watch her all the time,” he replied.  “She hasn’t had a chance to go anywhere that’s not resort property.”

Phil’s eyes flickered to the island map.  The resort SHIELD was investigating sat on the southern coast of Bedarra Island.  The island itself was privately owned and, aside from the secluded resort, uninhabited.  To the north of the resort were a series of buildings, and Phil knew they were the most likely location of anything untoward happening on the island.

“We also need to know if our missing AIM scientist is hiding out at the resort,” Nick said.  “At this point, Agents Barton and Romanoff are the only people who have seen his face.”  Nick paused, his gaze flicking between Barton and Natasha.  “Normally, I’d have no problem sending both you and Romanoff undercover…”

“But I’m not exactly in any condition to go into the field right now,” Natasha said, speaking for the first time.  “I have doctor’s orders to stay off my knee for at least a week so it can heal.”  She paused, looking towards Barton.  “Besides, I can’t guarantee I wasn’t seen.  Clint can.”

“I was up high,” Barton confirmed.  “I saw them, but they didn’t see me.”

Phil arched an eyebrow.  “So, Plan B is sending Barton undercover to the resort to help Agent May,” he said, following the rest of Nick’s unspoken idea.

“It’s more like Plan C, but yes,” Nick said, wry humour flashing across his expression for a moment.  “The only problem is that we can’t send him in alone.”

“Why not?” Phil asked.  “While infiltration isn’t Barton’s primary skill, he’s successfully completed undercover missions in the past.  There’s no reason he can’t managed this mission as well, even with minimal contact with a handler.”

Jasper grinned.  “This is the fun bit,” he said.  “The resort caters to romantic and secluded getaways.  It’s couples only.”

“So you’re sending him in with a partner?”  Phil pretended to ignore the way his stomach twisted at the idea.  It was ridiculous and unprofessional, but Phil didn't want to watch Barton fake being in love with someone who wasn’t Phil.  Of course, Phil’s feelings towards Barton hadn’t been professional or platonic for a pathetically long time.

He shot a glance at Natasha, who appeared to be watching the discussion with a calm expression.  She didn’t seem concerned that Barton was going in without her this time.  When she caught Phil looking at her, she arched a delicate eyebrow, her expression suggesting she knew _exactly_ what Phil was thinking.

“Actually, Coulson,” Nick said, interrupting Phil’s jealous thoughts.  “I’m sending Barton in with _you_.”

~*~

“Wait, _what_?”

Blinking, Clint fought a blush as everyone turned to look at him.  Clearing his throat, Clint tried to nonchalantly sip his coffee, as if he hadn't almost choked on it three seconds ago.  From the way Natasha rolled her eyes, Clint hadn't managed to hide his sudden inner panic from her at least.  “I mean, you’re sending Coulson in undercover, sir?” Clint said as calmly as he could.

It wasn't that Clint doubted Coulson’s skills.  His handler was a badass in more ways than one, and normally, Clint would jump at the chance to see Coulson out of a suit.  Clint was just suddenly aware of how not-normal this mission was going to be.  They were going undercover at a couples only resort.  A _romantic_ resort.  The kind of resort that meant Clint would have to touch Coulson, and Coulson would have to touch him back.  They might even have to kiss to maintain cover.  Clint's brain was having a little trouble processing that idea.  It was going to be fucking hard to keep his raging crush on his handler a secret if he _had to pretend to be in love with Coulson anyway_.

Judging by Coulson’s expression, Clint wasn’t the only one surprised by the mission details, either.

“Yes,” Fury replied, looking amused by the whole situation - and wasn’t it great that someone was enjoying this?  “It was Agent Romanoff’s recommendation, actually.  I know it’s been a while since you were out in the field like this, Coulson, but the fact is that you and Barton know each other.  I can assign another agent to be Barton’s partner, but no one else would have the same level of trust with him as you do.  If we really are dealing with AIM, that trust could be crucial.  Not to mention that you’re familiar enough with Barton and his quirks to be able to fake the little details.”

Clint frowned.  He was pretty sure Fury didn't actually know that Clint had memorized all the ways Coulson took his coffee (no sugar or cream in the mornings, two of each if he had a particularly stressful meeting after three that involved either junior agents or Sitwell).  He found himself nodding along anyway, because what Fury was saying was true.  Knowing the little details about each other was one of the reasons he and Natasha made such a formidable undercover team.  After some of the fucked up missions they'd been on together - like Budapest - it was hard not to.  The same went for Coulson.  If there was anyone that Clint would be able to pretend to know as well as a lover other than Natasha, it would be Coulson.  Logically, sending Coulson with him on the mission was a great idea.  The problem was, the mission would either be abject torture - or the best chance Clint was going to get to live the fantasy that Coulson could love him back.

“What do you think, Agent Barton?” Coulson asked.

Blinking out of his thoughts, Clint found both Coulson and Fury staring at him.  “Ah,” he said, hoping the Director wouldn’t notice he hadn’t been listening.  “Yes, sir?”

Fury rolled his eye, proving Clint hadn’t been all that successful.  “Of course Barton doesn’t have a problem working with you,” Fury said.

Clint blinked again, because Coulson seriously hadn’t asked that, had he?

Coulson cleared his throat, the tips of his ears turning pink.  Clint shot him an incredulous look.  When he'd been new to SHIELD, Clint had tried everything he could to embarrass Coulson and never managed it.  He had no idea why it was happening now.  It wasn't as if Coulson had never played one half of an undercover couple, either.  The junior agents were still repeating stories about the last time he had - it was practically SHIELD legend.  Glancing up, Coulson finally attempted to give Clint a reassuring smile, which just confused him even more.  What exactly was going on?

“Unless there are any other objections, it’s settled,” Fury said.  “Agents Coulson and Barton are going undercover with Agent Sitwell acting as mission handler.  Sitwell will give you your cover details.  I need you to make contact with Agent May, find out what the hell is going on and confirm if we have a mad scientist using that island as a base."  Fury shot everyone a pointed glare.  "Any questions?  No?  Good.”

After a sweep of the room with his sharp gaze, Fury disappeared in another dramatic swirl of black leather.  As always, he left a kind of muted silence in his wake.  Coulson and Jasper already had their heads bent together, deep in conversation.  As Clint watched, Jasper made a large gesture with his free hand, before he grabbed Coulson's coffee mug and marched out the room.  His eyes narrowed, Coulson stood and strode out of the room.  Clint was almost tempted to follow and witness whatever retaliation Coulson was plotting, but he needed a moment first.  The idea of being Phil Coulson’s _husband_ , no matter what name he was going by, was exciting and terrifying and there was no way he could focus right now.

Sucking in a deep breath, Clint tried to bury all his unsettled emotions down deep and looked up at Natasha.  “So,” he drawled, aiming for casual.  “I’m hungry.  Want to go grab breakfast?”

Natasha sent him an exasperated look.  Clint was grateful she didn't point out the way he was quietly freaking out about the mission.  “As long as I don’t have to walk very far,” she said, carefully rising to her feet.

Clint knew better than to help her before she asked for it, but he did walk over so he was nearby if she needed it.  He still felt guilty that he hadn’t been able to stop Natasha from being hurt on their last mission, because that had been his _job_.  He’d been up high, watching over the team when the double agent who’d been their local contact had sprung the trap on them.  Clint had tried his best to cover everyone, but the old warehouse had been chaotic, right before everything had very literally _exploded_.  Clint could still feel the shuddering, nauseating shock that had slammed into him so hard he couldn't breath, as the building Natasha was in had been engulfed in flames.

Delicate fingers caught his chin and Clint opened eyes he hadn’t even realized he’d shut.  “Are you feeling guilty again?” Natasha asked him softly.

“Nat…” Clint said.

Natasha arched an eyebrow.  “Can I or can I not take care of myself?” she said.

Clint rolled his eyes and huffed.  “Of course you can take care of yourself.  You’re the most badass person I know,” he said.  “That doesn’t change the fact that I’m your partner and I’m _always_ going to feel guilty when I’m not there to watch your back like I should.”

For a moment, Natasha graced him with a soft smile.  Then she arched an eyebrow, laughter lighting her eyes.  “Just like I’m always going to be there to smack you upside the head when you get stupid,” she said, punctuating her words by actually smacking him.  “Stop worrying about what’s already happened.  You're about to be stuck on a tropical island with the man you have a giant hard on for.  I'm sure you can find a million other details to brood over.”

Scowling, Clint glared at her.  Natasha knew all about his stupid feelings for Coulson because she was his best friend - and because she was scarily good at knowing everyone’s secrets.  She rolled her eyes at him.  "Come on, we'll steal some donuts on the way back to your desk to make you feel better,” she said.

“Donuts are good,” Clint agreed.

Just to annoy her, he gallantly offered Natasha his arm as he stood, a little surprised when she took it.  By the time they’d reached Clint’s desk in the junior agents’ bullpen, Natasha was actually leaning on him.  Clint tried to ignore the stabbing guilt about how serious her injuries had been.  Natasha had always been a fast healer - a legacy of the Red Room - but even she could only heal so fast.  As usual, a few of the other specialists stuck their heads around cubicle partitions to wave greetings as Clint flopped tiredly into his chair.  Natasha hitched her hip up onto the corner of Clint’s desk to take the weight off her bad leg, but Clint caught her small wince.  He pretended not to see it, instead watching Agent Woo as the other agent casually stole post-its from the desk next to his.  He seemed completely impervious to the glare Agent Ward was directing at him in response.

“Are you going to be okay?” Natasha asked, dragging Clint's attention away from his fellow agents as Ward finally threw a pen at Woo's head.

“I’m fine,” Clint replied, flashing her a cocky grin.

“Uh huh,” Natasha said skeptically.

“I am!” Clint protested.

Shaking her head slightly, Natasha leaned close.  “No, Clint, you’re not,” she whispered, before kissing him gently on the forehead.  Thankfully, though, she left it at that.  “You’d better start catching up on your files,” she said, rising to her feet to move to her own desk.  “You know Coulson’s going to want a planning session with you later.”

That was true.  Shoving a stolen doughnut into his mouth, Clint decided to give himself fifteen minutes to wallow in internal panic.  He could totally pretend to be okay with having to play Phil Coulson’s husband.  Besides, if anyone noticed, he'd do what he always did - fake it, til he made it.  Or at least until he could bury the memories in vodka.

~*~

“Okay,” Jasper said.  “The cover identities I cooked up are pretty close to your actual identities, but Fury wants you on the ground in two days and I didn't have time for the complicated shit.”

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, his gaze still fixed on a map of Bedarra Island.  They were prepping for the mission in Phil's office, taking advantage of Phil's couch.  Or rather, he and Jasper were.  Barton had sprawled out on the floor next to them, surrounded by the maps, blueprints and intelligence for the mission.  Fury wanted them at the resort as soon as physically possible, so they didn't have a lot of time, but it was hardly the first time Phil had dealt with similar conditions.  Throwing himself into the details of the mission was also a good way for Phil to stop his mind from dwelling on all the things he was going to have to do to maintain cover.  Not that touching or caring about Barton would ever be hard.  The hard part was having to remind himself that it wasn't _real_.

“Congratulations, Phillip and Clint Cole on your recent nuptials,” Jasper said, wiggling his eyebrows.

The sight of Jasper's grin immediately put Phil on his guard.  Jasper was up to something.  The feeling only seemed to get worse as Jasper handed the usual envelope of cover identity passports and other documents to Barton.  “Coulson, you're Phillip Cole," Jasper continued, handing Phil his cover dossier.  "Originally from Boston, you work as a political analyst for the prestigious Phoenix Foundation.  It was where you met your new husband, Clint, who also works at the Foundation as a junior researcher."

“Political analyst?” Phil echoed, raising an eyebrow.

Jasper grinned.  “I thought you'd like the way it allows you to complain about the degradation of modern political systems,” he quipped.  “Besides, isn’t that half your job already?”

“I doubt political analysts from Boston assess countries based on the likelihood of violent coups, and their potential disruption to long term intelligence missions," Phil told him dryly.

Turning, Phil caught Barton’s gaze and felt his lips curve slightly in answer to Barton’s smirk.  After flicking his eyes to Jasper, Barton returned his attention to pouring out the contents of the envelope.  A pair of matching gold rings slid out last.  For a long minute, Phil couldn't tear his gaze away from the way the light gleamed off the metal.  The sound of Barton’s rough chuckle snapped Phil's attention towards the younger man, and he hoped no one had caught where his eyes had lingered.  “Hey, Coulson,” Barton said, holding out his open passport.  “I’m totally your trophy husband.”

Jasper snorted as Phil pretended Barton using the word ‘husband’ hadn’t hit him somewhere low in his stomach.  “I used your real ages, Barton, so I don’t know what you’re going on about,” Jasper said.

Barton flashed Jasper an exaggerated pout that Phil would never admit he found far too adorable on such a deadly man.  “Besides,” Jasper added, his expression turning distinctly mischievous.  “I’d be more concerned with the fact your cover is pretty much the fancy equivalent of the secretary that seduced his boss.”

“I… what?” Barton said, looking through the papers again.  “Shit, Jasper, you didn’t…”

Phil sighed, because Jasper’s expression was that of a man who definitely _had_.  “Your sense of humour still leaves something to be desired,” he told Jasper flatly.

Jasper rolled his eyes.  “Your cover has you connected to the wealthy Cole Family of Boston and no one is going to care much beyond that,” he said.  “That, plus Coulson’s resemblance to one of the Cole Family cousins, sets you up very nicely as bait if the kidnappers are selecting victims from  the resort’s guests.”

“Awesome,” Barton said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Shall we move on to discussing equipment?” Phil asked, changing the subject.  “Barton, do you have any requests?”

“You should really call me Clint,” Barton said, his smirk twisting into a soft-edged smile.  “You know, since we’re married and all.”

Phil ignored the shiver that went down his spine at Barton’s - _Clint’s_ \- words.  “Then you should probably call me Phil,” he said.

“Awww,” Jasper said sarcastically.  “Do you two need a moment alone?”

“Shut up, Jasper,” Phil said.

Clint snorted, his eyes bright with laughter.  “Don’t worry, Phil,” he teased.  “Jasper’s just pissed he doesn’t get to tap this ass.”

Phil shut his eyes and bit back a groan, both at Clint’s words and the very distracting image they conjured.  “I would appreciate it if you never uttered that sentence again,” he said, clearing his throat.  “Shall we get back to the task at hand?”

Jasper shrugged, reaching for a nearby stack of files.  “Okay," he said.  "When we initially made the connection between the kidnappings and the resort, we did background checks on all the staff.  They came up clean.  No connections to anyone of interest and no criminal records in any country aside from two cases of petty theft.”

“What about the documents relating to AIM?” Phil said, frowning slightly.

“We have a copy of a few pages of notes with some sort of chemistry I don’t even pretend to understand,” Jasper said, passing Phil the top file.  “A second copy of that is with R&D right now.  Only they can’t tell me anything other than it might - _might_ \- be connected to whatever AIM was up to in Singapore.”

Opening the file, Phil immediately saw what Jasper was talking about.  The chemistry in the notes was highly advanced and clearly incomplete.

“The only other thing Agent May found was a notebook filled with some sort of code.  She was only able to get a copy of the first few pages, so we don’t have a lot to go on,” Jasper continued.

Phil flipped to the back of the file, but the notes didn’t look like any of the ciphers Phil was familiar with.  He handed the file to Clint to see if the archer could spot anything with his sharp gaze.  “And the room where Melinda found these?” Phil asked, glancing back at Jasper.

“Belongs to a man called Lucas King,” Jasper answered, passing Phil the next file.  “Born in London, England in 1976.  His biological father left when he was seven and his mother remarried three years later.  After that, the family emigrated to Sydney, Australia.  After high school, King traveled around the country working odd jobs, before he headed to Europe for a couple of years.  He returned to Australia about five years ago and he’s been working at the Bedarra Island resort ever since.”

The photo attached to the file was clearly a promotional shot.  King looked mostly unremarkable, but there was something almost clinical in his brown eyes.  Phil memorized the face, before passing the file to Clint.  As he did, Jasper handed him the next one.  “Jocelyn Beaumont, King’s girlfriend," Jasper continued.  "She also works at the resort.  Born outside of Lyon, France in 1984.  Backpacked around Australia while she was a college student and stayed after she met King.  She apparently followed him to the resort and got a job at his recommendation.”

This time, the photo was of a remarkably pretty young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.  “And finally, Jacob Harris,” Jasper said, passing over the final file of a young, dark-skinned man.  “Born in Melbourne in 1981. After high school, he moved his way up the coast to Queensland, working a variety of jobs at hotels and hostels.  He only met King at Bedarra Island, but May says he and King are pretty inseparable.”

“That’s not much to go on,” Clint muttered.

“Well, it’s all we have,” Jasper snarked back.  “Director Fury thinks it’s enough to authorize the mission - unless you’re saying you can’t handle it, Hawk?”

“Fuck off, Jasper,” Clint said, his eyes glinting dangerously.  “I think I can _handle_ the mission,” he drawled, his eyes flicking to Phil.  “I think I can handle it just _fine_.”

Phil sighed.  He had a feeling this mission was going to be dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with bullets or bad guys.

~*~


	2. Site Reconnaissance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint arrive at the resort and settle in, and then do a little sneaking.

Two days later, and at the end of a _very_ long trip, Clint found himself in paradise.

There was really no other word for it.

Bedarra Island was a bright splash of colour against the crystal clear ocean.  Lush, green rainforest stretched all the way down to pristine white sand beaches.  Between the swaying palm trees, bright splashes of fuchsia, orange and white exotic flowers stood out among the leaves, their sweet scent already on the breeze.  Clint could see why people wanted to spend their honeymoons and romantic getaways in such a place.  Bedarra Island was like something out of a fantasy-adventure movie.  Maybe with pirates.  It looked like the kind of island for pirates.  Giving into temptation, Clint closed his eyes and tilted his head back, enjoy a quiet moment as the ferry cut through the water towards the island.  The sun was warm on his skin, and the fresh air was helping ease some of the usual mission tension running through his shoulders.  The trip from the mainland of Australia hadn't been long, but Clint was mainly just grateful to be standing up.  He felt like he'd been stuck in a cramped plane or car for the last week.

As they got closer, Clint  used the fact he was wearing mirrored sunglasses to scope out the layout of the resort.  He could already pick out the secluded guest villas among the trees.  They were private enough that no one should notice if Clint and Phil ever snuck out for a little night-time reconnaissance.  To the east, several large buildings spread out behind the dock the ferry was heading towards.  From the mission briefing, Clint knew they housed the front desk, the restaurant and the staff-only areas.  A large, lavish swimming pool lay off to the side, surrounded by more palm trees and umbrella-shaded lounge chairs.  The whole resort was designed for privacy, but still had space for guests to mingle.  Hopefully, that would give Phil and Clint the change to find out if the rogue AIM scientist was hiding out at the resort somewhere.

“See anything we should be concerned about?” Phil asked, coming up behind where Clint was standing at the ferry’s railing.

Leaning close enough to speak into Clint's ear, Phil was the perfect picture of a doting husband.  His hand rested gently at the small of Clint's back, warmth bleeding through the fabric of Clint's t-shirt.  Clint shivered, goosebumps prickling across his skin, suddenly very conscious of the ring on his left hand.  He couldn't stop the way his thumb reached out to run over it in an unconscious, nervous gesture.  For a sharp, painful moment, Clint felt a stab of desperate longing.  He wished that this wasn't a mission - that he and Phil were actually visiting a place like this on their real honeymoon.  Clint knew his feelings for his handler were more than just friendly, just like he knew that Coulson was way out of his league.

Of course, the whole situation wasn't helped by the fact Phillip Cole didn't wear the expertly tailored suits that Agent Coulson did.  Instead, Phil wore loose shorts and a grey t-shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders.  The whole outfit was making it very hard for Clint to concentrate on the mission because he could see Phil’s knees, for fuck’s sake.  Clint didn't ever think he’d seen Phil’s knees before.  “I think we’re good,” Clint answered finally, hoping that none of his distracted thoughts were showing on his face.  Turning slightly, he ignored the way the movement put him even closer to Phil.

“Good,” Phil said with a small smile.  Clint had an irrational moment where he hated the fact that Phil’s sunglasses hid the way his eyes crinkled.  “As soon as we get settled, we should make contact with Agent May.”

Clint nodded.  They were only due to check in with Jasper later that evening, but because Phil was Phil, Clint knew he’d want to report in with more than just the fact they’d arrived.

A few minutes later, the ferry pulled up at the dock and the perky voice of their guide announced their welcome.  Fixing a smile on his face, Clint allowed Phil to escort him off the ferry.  All around the guests, the smiling resort staff gathered up the luggage, but Clint couldn't see Agent May in the crowd.  With a clap of her hands and another bright smile, their perky guide started directing everyone towards the front desk.  She pointed out the various attractions as she led the way, but her voice faded a little as Clint and Phil dropped to the back of the group.  The pace Phil set was deliberately slow, his shoulder brushing Clint's as they walked.

It was kind of nice.

By the time they made it to the front desk, the other two couples had mostly finished checking in.  The front desk sat to the side of the restaurant, surrounded by glass walls that had a clear view of the entrance to the restaurant and a large section of the pool.  Several paths also led off the side, which Clint assumed led to the guest villas.  Following Phil up to the desk, Clint slipped off his sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of his t-shirt.  “Good morning, sirs,” the concierge said, a polite smile fixed on his face.  “Can I help you?”

“Phillip and Clint Cole,” Phil said with a smile of his own.  “We have a booking for a villa?”

“Welcome to Bedarra Island Retreat, Mr Cole,” the concierge replied.  “I hope both you and your husband have a pleasant stay with us.”

A few minutes later they were done checking in and the concierge called for another member of the staff to show them to their villa.  “Come on, _darling_ ,” Clint drawled to Phil, covering his unsettled emotions much like he had for the last two days - with cheek.

“After you, _sweetheart_ ,” Phil shot back and Clint had to bite back a smile at the subtle sarcasm in Phil’s voice as he followed their escort out the door.  

~*~

Phil had to admit, the villa was _nice_.

It was exactly the kind of place he would have liked to visit if he ever used any of his vacation days and got away from SHIELD for a while.  The walls were the same cream colour as the carpet, giving the rooms a light, airy feeling, emphasized by the large floor-to-ceiling windows.  The villa itself formed a semicircle with what appeared to be a small, private pool and a large deck in the center.  A small set of stairs led down to the beach just below, and beyond the deck was a stunning view of tropical blue ocean and the distant shape of other islands.

Tipping the porter with a polite smile, Phil turned just in time to catch Clint disappearing out onto the deck.  Knowing Clint as he did, Phil knew the younger man would be taking the opportunity to explore a little.  If Clint was also scouting out several escape routes and how close the next villa was, Phil wouldn't mention it.  The trait might have been a little paranoid, but Phil had always appreciated it.  With a final glance at the view, Phil headed towards the bedroom to check over the equipment they’d brought.  The room took up one side of the villa, luxuriously but simply decorated, with an equally lavish en suite next to it.  Although, it wasn't until Phil entered the bedroom that one of the realities of the mission hit home.

There was only _one_ bed.

An incredibly large, comfortable looking bed that was currently decorated with rose petals.

“Well, that’s subtle,” Clint drawled, stepping into the bedroom behind Phil.

“I think it’s supposed to be romantic,” Phil told him, ignoring the way his heart was suddenly pounding.

Grabbing his laptop, Phil tried to focus on the screen and not on the way the sunlight streaming in through the large windows warmed Clint's skin.  Or the way Clint's t-shirt fit his shoulders and left his incredible arms bare.  Otherwise, Phil might end up doing something embarrassing.  Besides, they had a mission.  He heard Clint head over the rest of the gear, no doubt to check his bow.  “So do you have any idea how we’re going to find Agent May?” Clint asked.

“I was actually hoping she’d find us,” Phil said.

When Clint hummed with amusement in response, Phil looked up from his laptop and found Clint grinning at him.  “What?” Phil asked.

“I just figured you’d have a more complicated plan, that’s all,” Clint said with a shrug, his eyes dancing.

Before Phil could reply, there was a knock at the door.  Tensing, Phil grabbed his gun from the small table beside him.  He tucked it into the waistband of his shorts, he glanced over at Clint.  Clint, armed with his own gun, nodded back.  Phil wasn't expecting trouble, but considering the types of people they were here investigating, he wasn't going to take any chances.  He fixed a polite smile on his face again as he carefully cracked open the door, and felt his smile broaden in relief when he recognized who it was.

“Good afternoon, Mr Cole,” Melinda May said, sauntering into the villa when Phil stepped aside.  “I came to deliver your complimentary champagne.”

“It’s safe, Clint,” Phil called out after he shut the door behind her.  “It’s just Agent May.”

Clint walked out of the bedroom with a grin.  “Hey, Mel,” he greeted.

“Hawk,” Melinda replied, her eyes teasing.

Walking over to the bench top surrounding the small kitchenette, Melinda carefully set down the ice bucket.  “You should definitely drink that,” she said with a small smirk.  “It’s nice champagne.”

Humming, Clint sauntered over and gave a low whistle when he read the label.  “She’s right,” he said with a grin.

“Maybe later,” Phil said, even though he knew returning the champagne unopened would raise a few eyebrows among the staff.  “So what can you tell us?”

“Not much more than you already know,” Melinda said with a frown.  “King is still suspicious of this season’s new staff and I can’t do much without someone watching me.  I haven’t managed to get back into King’s room, either, but he’s definitely up to something.”

“Do you have any idea what it is?” Clint asked.

Melinda shook her head.  “He’s twitchy, though.  So are Harris and Beaumont.”

Phil frowned.  That didn’t sound good.  “Where is King now?” he said.

“He has the day off,” Melinda replied.  “He disappeared out to the mainland this morning and I haven’t seen him since.”

Clint huffed.  “I’m hoping that just means he just went for a latte and some retail therapy, rather than some sort of new, horrifying development,” he drawled.

Ignoring Clint, Phil arched an eyebrow at Melinda.  “I’m assuming you also haven’t had a chance to scope out the buildings to the north of the resort yet?” he said.

Melinda shook her head curtly.  “No,” she said.

“Well,” Clint said with a grin.  “I guess we know what we’re up to later.”

For a second, Melinda looked amused, before her face returned to its usual business-like calm.  “No one should find it unusual if you order dinner to your villa for a quiet evening,” she said.  Then she smirked.  “Just don’t forget to act extra sappy tomorrow when you finally venture out.”

Clint smirked back at her and really, there was absolutely no reason why that expression should send Phil’s pulse racing.  “Think we should order some strawberries and whipped cream with dinner, sir?” Clint said, his eyes dancing with mischief.  “Just to sell the illusion?”

“Not all seductions need to sound like they've come out of a romance novel,” Phil replied.  He was grateful that his tone came out level and dry, because the last thing he needed was for Clint to realize how much he was affecting Phil’s usual calm.

“Oh, come on, Phil,” Melinda said.  “Live a little.”

“Besides, Phil,” Clint said.  “This is our honeymoon.  You wouldn’t want to neglect your new husband, would you?”

Phil swallowed heavily.  Clint’s continued casual use of the word ‘husband’ wasn't doing his heart any good.  Nor were the constant reminders that they were supposed to be pretending this was their honeymoon.  Phil knew all too well what normal people got up to on honeymoons - what the _entire_ villa was designed to emphasize - and Phil was going to have to get a hold of himself before he did something inappropriate.  Like kiss that damned smirk right off Clint’s face.

“I’m not as uptight as you both seem to think I am, you know,” he said, because he knew both Clint and Melinda would be expecting him to protest.

“Of course not,” Melinda replied.  “So you’re going to scope out the buildings tonight?”

Phil nodded.  “We’re due to check in with Jasper in about an hour and unless he has any new intel for us, we’ll probably head out after sunset.”

Melinda nodded back, before glancing at her watch.  “I need to head back before someone misses me.  I can drop off your dinner orders to the kitchen if you want?”

“Sure,” Clint said.  “Do they do good burgers here?”

Melinda arched an eyebrow.  “Really, Hawk?” she said.  “This island comes with a world renowned chef and you’re ordering a hamburger?”

Clint shrugged.  “I’m a man of simple tastes,” he said.

“We’ll take two steaks,” Phil said, cutting them off before they could start an argument.  Phil was all too aware of Melinda’s preferences for good food.  “Clint takes his medium rare and I’ll have mine medium well-done.”

Melinda looked at him for a moment, before she shook her head and smiled.  “Sure,” she said.  “If you need anything else, I’ll be around all day.”

“Thanks,” Phil said.

~*~

Not too long after Melinda left, Phil retreated to the bedroom to go over the mission intel _again_ , before he had to call Jasper and check in.  Clint tried not to be frustrated by the whole situation, but it was hard.  They were on a mission and the mission had to come first.  He could have followed Phil to the bedroom to be his usual annoying self, but his nerves were starting to feel a little frayed around the edges.  Clint wasn't sure how long he could keep up the pretense that everything was fine.  It felt a little like the early days, when Clint had been obnoxiously pushing boundaries to try and find the cracks in Agent Coulson’s calm mask.  Clint had taken a while to learn that the calm wasn't a mask, but _Phil_.  His handler was the only man Clint had ever met who could stare down a maniac with a gun with nothing more than an expression of mild frustration.  Although, this time, the smartass comments weren't Clint's attempt to break through Phil’s professionalism.  Clint was just trying to figure out if the idea behind the gold ring on Phil’s finger was driving Phil as crazy as it was driving him.

It didn’t help that Clint was still reeling from seeing Phil in casual wear.  He was used to seeing Phil in suits that emphasized his shoulders and made him look calm and commanding and _incredible_ , not the shorts and t-shirt he was wearing now.  Not that t-shirts were a problem.  Clint just wasn't sure he could handle his normally calm and professional handler acting comfortable and _human_ all over the place.  He just had to remind himself that for all the casual intimacy of calling him Phil, his handler was firmly shoved into the ‘unobtainable’ box in his head.  The last thing Clint wanted to do was fuck up one of the few stable relationships in his life.  No matter how hard Clint found it to resist the combination of soft smiles and the hint of vulnerability that made Clint want to _climb Phil like a tree_.  Or how fuzzy SHIELD regs might be on the subject of sleeping with direct supervisors.

Clint dropped onto the couch with a frustrated sigh, his mind full of images he shouldn’t be thinking about.  He and Phil had known each other for years, and worked together for almost as long.  Back when he'd first met Phil, he'd been an insubordinate kid - recruited for his skills, not his attitude.  He'd never forgotten, though, that Phil had _always_ had faith in him, even in the beginning when he'd given Phil every reason not to.  Over the years, Clint had matured and Phil had started relaxing around him more, but Phil still listened like he always had.  Clint had found it hard to resist Phil’s calm voice in Clint’s ear on missions - even when they were going to shit - but combined with Phil's dry sense of humour and the way he looked fucking good in a suit, and Clint had fallen hard for his handler a long time ago.

Groaning softly, Clint ran a hand over his face.  If Nat had been there, she probably would have smacked him for being an idiot.  Or at least given Clint something to distract him from the urge to march into the bedroom, yank Phil up by that stupid t-shirt and make use of that ridiculously large, rose petal covered bed - which was a really dumb idea if Clint wanted to stay friends with Phil and not fuck everything up.

Kicking off his sneakers, Clint curled himself up on the couch.  Watching the ocean outside the massive windows, Clint hoped the view would take his mind away from thoughts of Phil.  He must have dozed off, probably  thanks to the lingering exhaustion from all the traveling, because the next thing Clint knew the sun was setting.  Behind him, he could hear the faint sounds of Phil in the kitchenette and from the smell of things, Phil was making coffee.  Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Clint pushed himself up so that he could look at Phil over the back of the couch.  “Hey,” he said, his voice rough with sleep.  “Is there enough coffee for me?”

Phil quirked his eyebrow at Clint, his mouth betraying a faint smile.  “Of course,” he said.

“Thanks,” Clint said, smiling back as he clambered off the couch.

“I made it extra strong, too,” Phil said, his smile growing the longer he watched Clint.

Clint figured his hair was probably doing something interesting the way Phil’s eyes kept flicking to it, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.  “Did you enjoy your nap?” Phil asked as Clint walked over to where Phil was pouring the coffee and gratefully wrapped his hands around his mug.

Huffing slightly in amusement, Clint knocked his shoulder against Phil’s.  “Did you enjoy your paperwork?” he teased back and grinned when Phil rolled his eyes in response.

Taking a sip of coffee, Clint hummed in happiness, because no one made coffee quite like Coulson.  “So, have we got a plan about how we’re going to track down Lucas King?” he asked, breaking the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.

“I think so,” Phil said, nudging Clint and together they moved to sit on the couch.  “Jasper passed on some more information from Melinda.  According to her schedule, King's working maintenance near the restaurant tomorrow morning and then in the bar in the evening.  It shouldn’t be too hard to follow him and keep an eye on who he talks to.”

Clint nodded, making a mental note to check the photos of King and his lackeys again.  “And were still heading to check out those buildings tonight, right?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

“I thought we could do that after dinner,” Phil said.

Nodding again, Clint attempted to wake himself up.  The difference in time zones wasn't helping.  This side of Australia as about sixteen hours ahead of where he’d been yesterday.  “Okay,” he said, noticing Phil was watching him with a small furrow of concern on his forehead.  “Sorry.  I think the jetlag is catching up to me.”

“Drink your coffee,” Phil said, the concern sliding into a fond smile, before a knock at the door interrupted them.

Phil’s hand on Clint’s shoulder pushed him down when he went to get up and Clint sank back onto the couch as Phil got up to answer the door instead.  Hiding a yawn, Clint drank more of his coffee and looked up in surprise as he caught the delicious scent of dinner.  As if just realizing he was hungry, his stomach gave a loud rumble that made Phil smile with fond amusement again.  “Guess I’m hungry,” Clint said a little sheepishly.

Since the view was too spectacular to waste, even as the day slid into twilight, they took their steaks out onto the deck.  Clint found himself relaxing as he enjoyed the pleasant combination of the gentle crash of the ocean, good food and Phil’s calm, steady presence beside him.  They didn’t say much over dinner, but the silence wasn’t strained.  He and Phil had been on too many missions together for things to be awkward. Clint knew Phil well enough to know the other man sometimes appreciated being left to his own thoughts.  Truthfully Clint did too, it was just that usually preferred to do most of his serious thinking with a bow in his hands.

Phil finally cleared his throat after the sky had darkened completely and their steaks were long gone.  Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the impressive array of stars, Clint flashed Phil a small smile and followed him inside to gear up.  It was only supposed to be simple reconnaissance, so they were going in light with minimal supplies.  Even so, Clint still grabbed his bow, because there was no way he was going anywhere without the ability to watch Phil’s back.  About two hours after dark, Clint and Phil slipped out of the villa.  Navigating mostly by the moonlight filtering through the canopy, they headed for the inlet where SHIELD had spotted the suspicious buildings.

Compared to some of the missions Clint had found himself on, the walk through the rainforest was actually kind of peaceful.  The vegetation was thick and full of a million bugs, the rich scent of dirt mixing with the faint perfume of tropical flowers.  High above them, there was the odd rustling of birds settling down to sleep and Clint could hear the waves hitting the shore on the other side of the trees.  Although, if Clint was completely honest with himself, it wasn’t just the vegetation he was watching.  Phil had taken point and Clint had spent the last twenty minutes staring every time the moonlight broke through the leaves.  Contrary to junior agents' opinions, Phil didn't wear suits _all the time_.  In deference to the mission, Phil wore dark cargo pants and a t-shirt, the black somehow emphasizing the silent way Phil crept through the trees.  Clint found it hard to keep his eyes on where he was going, and off the way the damp fabric of Phil’s t-shirt clung to his shoulders and pulled tight as Phil moved.

Yanking his gaze away from where he’d been dangerously close to staring at Phil’s ass _again_ , Clint pulled out his GPS to check their position.  “I think we’re close,” he called out quietly to Phil.

Phil glanced back at Clint, but before he could reply, they both heard the sharp snap of a branch.  Above them, the quiet rustling of the birds went quiet.  Clint tensed, scanning the rainforest around them for any sign of movement.

There was someone nearby.

Reaching out to grab Clint’s shoulder, Phil motioned to a denser part of the vegetation.  Clint nodded back.  Carefully, he slithered down to lie flat on his stomach between some large, twisting tree roots, Phil dropping down beside him.  Not too long after Phil had settled into position, two well-armed men rounded a thick clump of trees.  Even in the dappled moonlight, Clint could see that both men were alert and walking cautiously.  Clint frowned, because there had been nothing in the SHIELD briefing to suggest the buildings would be guarded.

The two mercenaries stopped a few feet away from where Clint and Phil were lying.  As Clint watched, one of the men took out a battered pack of cigarettes and lit up, the end of the cigarette bright in the dim light.  The mercenaries were obviously part of a two man patrol, which pretty much proved the missing AIM scientist was using the island as a base.

“Patrol Two, this is Base.  What’s your status?” a radio squawked, breaking the quiet of the night.

The mercenary with the cigarette scowled.  Shared a look with his companion, he pulled a radio out from where it had been wedged in his belt.  “This is Patrol Two,” he said.  “We’re halfway to the resort, but everything’s still quiet as fuck.  Over.”

“Keep your eyes sharp, Cortez,” the voice on the radio replied.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cortez muttered, crushing the butt of his cigarette under his boot.  “We’ll check back in thirty.  Patrol Two out.”

Clint felt his eyebrows rise a little in surprise at the radio conversation.  On a remote island like this one, thirty minute check-ins were a little paranoid - particularly at night.  Unless, of course, it was less AIM sanctioned and more the scientist in it for himself.  As the mercenaries disappeared back the way they’d come, Clint felt Phil shift closer.  “I think we should follow them,” he breathed in Clint’s ear.  Clint had to suppress a shiver at the feeling of Phil’s warm breath against his neck.  “I want to get a look at these buildings.”

Clint nodded, trying to ignore the urge to clear his throat.  “Sure,” he said.

Quietly, he and Phil headed in the direction the mercenaries had disappeared.  There was a faint trail amongst the vegetation, a sign of a patrol repeatedly walking the same route.  Clint followed it, making sure to keep just off to the side in case they had to duck for cover again.  About ten minutes later, he and Phil found themselves at the top of a small rise as the trail dropped away on the other side.  Sliding his bow off his shoulder, Clint dropped to his stomach again and wriggled into position so he could overlook the beach and buildings below.  Phil settled down beside him, and Clint was suddenly all too aware of the solid press of Phil’s thigh and hip against his, and the way their shoulders brushed as Clint breathed.  Clint wanted to press closer into Phil’s warmth, despite the sticky humidity, but he knew better than to give into the impulse.  Instead, he resolutely stared down at the buildings as Phil dug out a pair of night-vision binoculars from his pocket.

Interspersed between the vegetation were three small buildings, surrounding a larger one in the middle.  Clint's sharp eyes picked out the mercenaries as they walked past the largest building.  The building had a keycard lock on it, probably wired up to some kind of alarm, and there were cameras covering the outside walls.  Combined with the mercenaries on patrol, it was a lot of security for a series of buildings that looked like old warehouses.

“Shit,” Clint said quietly.  “Mel was right.”

“There’s more going on here than we thought,” Phil agreed grimly.  “Although, I’m confused why SHIELD didn’t pick up this activity on the satellites.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a terrorist hotspot,” Clint said dryly.

Phil was quiet for a moment.  Clint didn’t need to glance over to know Phil had turned an arched eyebrow towards him and was waiting for an explanation of what Clint meant.  Clint huffed and rolled his eyes, knowing Phil would see it, but kept his gaze on the buildings below in case the mercenary patrol reappeared.  “This island is hardly a high-priority target for satellite time, no matter what SHIELD thinks,” he said.  “Which means, what?  Intelligence satellites would pass over once, maybe twice a day?  To stay under the radar all these guys have to do is keep the bulk of their activity to when they know the satellites aren’t watching.”

From the corner of his eye, Clint caught Phil’s rueful smile.  “That’s a good point,” he said.

“Of course it is,” Clint said with a grin, knocking his shoulder against Phil’s.  “Besides, whoever is running this operation is probably bringing in supplies through the resort itself, so there’d be minimal activity to spot.”

“You’re probably right,” Phil agreed.

“So what’s the plan, boss?” Clint asked after a moment.

“We need to let SHIELD know,” Phil said quietly.  “Then we need to figure out how exactly Lucas King is involved in this.  Ultimately, we need proof that’s the AIM facility down there before we can call in a strike team.  I doubt we'd be able to get access to those buildings without a keycard anyway.  Hopefully, Lucas King might just have one."

Clint’s gaze flickered over the security set up around the buildings again.  “Yeah,” he said.  “Otherwise thing might get difficult.”

“Come on,” Phil said, wiggling backwards from their vantage point.  “We should probably head back before someone catches us.”

~*~

 


	3. Target Surveillance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Phil keep an eye on the bad guys (and each other), and Clint gets a lot of relationship advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for Clint's work out scene came from this: http://tricksandarrows.tumblr.com/post/71494177317/onehalfakindredsoul-a-warrior-should-embrace
> 
> :D

Phil awoke to the sensation of a leg tangled with his and a warm, muscular back pressed firmly against his side.  Blinking sleepily, Phil processed the feeling of waking up next to someone.  He was still exhausted after the shift in time zone and the fact he and Clint had only made it back to the villa just after midnight.  At some point during the night, Clint had spread across to Phil's side of the bed.  It should have been irritating, but Phil found it hard to get annoyed when Clint had relaxed enough to sleep.  It wasn't the first time he and Clint had shared a bed on a mission, but it always hit Phil somewhere deep in his chest to realize Clint trusted him enough to let go of his constant need for vigilance, even if he slept facing the door with one hand on the knife hidden underneath his pillow.

For a moment, Phil gave in and savoured the feeling of Clint curled up in bed beside him.  Turning his head, he smiled fondly at the way Clint had mashed his face into his pillow.  Then Phil’s gaze slipped lower, his eyes tracing the firm muscles of Clint’s back down to the sheets that now tangled about the archer’s waist.  Clint looked rumpled and gorgeous and Phil had to resist a strong urge to reach out and touch all that warm, golden skin.  Instead, Phil gently pulled away so he could get up, unsurprised when the movement woke Clint.

“What time is it?” Clint grumbled, his eyes alert as he sat up and his hair sticking up in a mess of odd angles.

“Just after ten o’clock,” Phil said, trying to avoid blatantly staring at the muscles of Clint’s chest and stomach.  “We should get moving soon.”

Looking disgruntled at the prospect, Clint frowned as he untangled himself from the sheets.  Standing up, Clint lifted his arms above his head and stretched his whole body.  Phil’s mouth went dry as he watched the muscles of Clint’s back shift with the movement.  He clenched his hands in the soft material of his sleep pants, trying to stop the renewed impulse to reach out and touch, to slide his palm over Clint's back, learn the sweep of Clint’s shoulders and the taste of Clint’s warm skin, but he couldn’t.  The little satisfied hum Clint made as he lowered his arms again made Phil wish he could reach over and pull Clint into a kiss and explore what other things could make him hum like that.

Needing to put some space between them, Phil climbed to his feet and headed for the bathroom, certain his cheeks were flushed.  Splashing water on his face, Phil looked up to stare at his reflection in the mirror.  He needed to get a grip on himself before Clint noticed something.  It was just hard to lock his feelings away when the man he was pretending to be was so close to the truth.  For what felt like the millionth time, Phil debated actually saying something about how he felt to Clint.  He wasn’t a coward.  He was a SHIELD agent and a former Ranger.  He could face down all kinds of danger if the situation called for it, but the idea of confessing his feelings was different.  He didn't want to lose the friendship he’d built with Clint over the years, or watch Clint's eyes fill with sympathetic pity.

“All I can say is that breakfast had better come with coffee,” Clint grumbled as he came up behind Phil.

Phil hoped none of his thoughts were showing on his face.  Considering the fact that Clint was standing half naked and sleep rumpled in front of him, his response probably could have been worse.  Clint smiled at him in the mirror, putting one hand on Phil’s shoulder as he leaned over to grab his toothbrush.  Phil could feel the warmth of the touch through the thin cotton of his t-shirt and for a moment he wished he could sink back against Clint’s strength.  “It’s like you don’t know me at all, Clint,” Phil said, somehow managing to sound almost normal.

Clint grinned.  “Of course,” he said.  “I shouldn’t have doubted.  I’ve known you to level entire HYDRA cells if they get between you and coffee.”

“Those rumours are unfounded,” Phil protested, regaining a little of his equilibrium as Clint moved his hand, sliding into the space at the basin beside Phil.

Shooting him a look because his mouth was full of toothpaste, Clint’s expression clearly conveyed his skeptical opinion.  Phil huffed and rolled his eyes.  “I told you, the junior agents blew that incident completely out of proportion,” he said.

Clint snorted, looking faintly irritated that he couldn’t say anything with his toothbrush still in his mouth.  Phil shifted his attention back to his own reflection, carefully ignoring the fact that Clint was still shirtless.  The man staring back at Phil looked tired, worn and old.  Not for the first time, Phil wondered at Nick’s wisdom at sending him on this mission rather than someone like Natasha.  Phil wasn’t doubting his own skills - he knew he was completely capable of finding out what going on at the resort and helping SHIELD put a stop to it.  It was just that next to Clint, Phil looked plain and rather uninteresting.  Phil sighed.  This mission was starting to mess with his head.

Feeling Clint bump his shoulder, Phil turned and found the other man had finished brushing his teeth and was now watching Phil curiously.  “Jump in the shower, will you?” he said.  “I want waffles.”

Phil blinked and attempted to shake off his thoughts.  “Are you saying I smell?” Phil said as Clint gave him a good-natured shove towards the shower.

“Would I say a thing like that?” Clint replied with a grin.

“Yes,” Phil said.

Laughing, Clint headed back to the bedroom to give Phil a little privacy.  As they’d discovered the night before, the amount of glass and windows around the villa made it hard not to catch a glimpse.  Normally that wouldn’t have been a problem, but right now it felt like all too much temptation.  Turning the water temperature to the cooler side of warm, Phil tried not to linger in the shower.  He kept his thoughts firmly away from the distractingly attractive man in the other room.  Shoving his head under the spray, Phil let the cool water splash his face and tried to wrangle his thoughts.  In a short while he and Clint would have to venture out and act like the newlywed couple they were supposed to be, which meant Phil couldn’t afford any involuntary reactions.  Particularly not with Clint’s sharp eyes watching him they way they usually did.

Sighing, Phil turned off the water and wrapped one of the thick, fluffy towels around his waist.  It was only then that he realized he hadn’t brought a change of clothes with him into the bathroom.  Stepping out into the bedroom to grab some jeans, Phil glanced over to tell Clint the shower was free and felt the breath stutter in his lungs.  His hands tightening on the edge of his towel, Phil swallowed heavily before he did something inappropriate, like whimper.  Rationally, Phil knew Clint trained long and hard to be in the kind of condition he was in.  He’d seen how many hours Clint put in on the range and in the gym with Natasha - he’d even trained with them sometimes.  Phil had also seen the series of stretches, pushups and situps Clint usually indulged in when they had to spend time hiding out in safehouses to keep himself from going stir crazy.  However, none of that seemed to have prepared Phil for the sight of what Clint was doing now.

Clint had rolled out a little mat near the windows, and was silhouetted against the view of the ocean beyond as he gracefully flipped up into a handstand.  Mesmerized by Clint’s seemingly effortless display of strength, Phil watched as Clint held the position for a moment, before he spread his legs into a v-shape.  Whatever training routine Clint was going through looked like a mixture of yoga, acrobatics and strength training and Phil didn’t really know how to describe it.  He felt vaguely creepy to be so openly ogling his asset, but at the same time, he couldn’t persuade his feet to move.  Clint slowly bent his elbows, lowering his body until he was holding it parallel to, but not touching the floor.  Beads of sweat dripped down Clint’s skin, proving that what he was doing wasn’t as easy as it looked and Phil had to bite down on his lip to resist the urge to reach out and follow the trails with his fingers - or his lips.

Clint dropped his feet to the mat, arching up into a more familiar yoga position, before fluidly moving into a lunge, arms above his head.   Finally managing to jerk his gaze away, Phil headed over to his gear and grabbed a pair of jeans.  He tugged them on under the towel and struggled to regain his usual composure.  “Shower’s free,” his said, his voice audibly rougher than usual.

“Great,” Clint said, looking over with a grin, before rising to his feet.  “Give me five minutes for a shower.”

“Sure,” Phil agreed, trying to surreptitiously clear his throat as he reached for a t-shirt.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick,” Clint called out from the bathroom, sounding completely unaware of the effect he was having on Phil - just like always.  “You know what happens when I get hungry!”

~*~

About half an hour later, Clint was enjoying a meal that Phil would probably call brunch.  Not that he really cared about the specifics - he had waffles, warm sunshine and a view of Phil in a t-shirt.  He and Phil were sitting outside on the deck outside the restaurant at one of the corner tables.  Beyond the deck railing on his right, blue ocean and beach stretched out, and on the other side both he and Phil had an unobstructed view of Lucas King.  King appeared to be fixing some recent storm damage on the fence by the pool, but he didn’t seem to be making much progress.  King’s two friends - Beaumont and Harris - also seemed to be making frequent trips out to talk to him, so Clint was pretty sure King was up to something.

“You might want to soften the glare a little, _honey_ ,” Clint said, flicking his eyes to where Phil was watching King intently from behind his sunglasses.  “You’re supposed to be my doting husband.  That usually implies a little less focused rage.”

Dressed in another soft t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders and well-worn jeans, Phil was idly sipping his cup of coffee as he watched King.  If it wasn’t for the subtle tension running through him, Clint would have said he looked relaxed.  The unease wasn't just the mission either.  Clint didn't know what had happened, but Phil had been slowly withdrawing since they'd woken up.  Or rather, Clint had since Clint had woken up to the familiar feeling of Phil watching him.  He wasn't sure what he'd missed.  Maybe Phil's eyes had lingered on him again as he'd gone through his usual morning training routine, but there wasn't anything strange in that.  Clint had almost sworn he'd caught a flicker of heat in Phil’s warm blue gaze, but Clint also wasn’t sure if he was just seeing what he so desperately wanted to see.  His brain had pretty much gone offline at the point he'd seen Phil standing there in those comfortable, worn jeans anyway.  Clint had been more focused on trying not to swallow his tongue at the sight of all that naked skin.

Turning to glance at Clint, Phil’s expression softened and Clint shook off his lingering thoughts.  “I think you’re forgetting who I’m supposed to be married to,” Phil said dryly, his lips quirking up in a soft smile.

“Ooh,” Clint said, but he couldn’t stop his grin, because there was the Phil he’d missed all morning.  “What do you mean, Phil?  I’m _awesome_.”

Smiling, Phil shook his head slightly, before his attention drifted back over to where King was again.  Tracking King out of the corner of his eye, Phil realized what had caught Phil's focus.  Jocelyn Beaumont had appeared again, this time looking increasingly nervous.  As she spoke, her eyes darted in Melinda's direction as Melinda played waitress on the other side of the restaurant.  "Well, that's not suspicious at all," Clint drawled softly as he took in the scene.

“I’m going to follow Beaumont,” Phil told him just as quietly when it looked like the woman was about to disappear again.  “I want to know where she’s going.”

“Need company?” Clint asked as Phil moved to get up.

Phil shook his head.  “I’ll be back,” he said.  “Keep an eye on King in the meantime.”

Nodding, Clint allowed his gaze to linger on Phil as he disappeared after Beaumont.  Continuing to watch King with the edge of his gaze, Clint sank deeper into his chair and basked a little in the sun.  The creature comforts on this mission were definitely a lot better than most, and Clint was determined to soak up as much enjoyment and sun as he could before they had to leave.  Sipping his coffee, he carefully tracked Melinda’s movements as she wound her way closer.

“Are you enjoying your waffles, sir?” she asked when she was close enough.

Clint had to bite back a smirk at her overly polite tone.  “They’re great,” he replied, flicking his eyes towards her briefly, before returning his attention to King.

“Where’s Phil?” Melinda asked in a low voice, leaning over to refill Clint’s coffee cup from a fancy silver pot.

“He’s following Beaumont,” Clint said.  “He left about five minutes ago.  He wanted to see where she was going.”

“Leaving you to keep an eye on King?” Melinda said and Clint hummed in confirmation.

Melinda nodded slightly, before her dark eyes were lit by a spark of teasing amusement.  “I’m actually surprised the two of you made it out of bed this morning,” she said.

Clint raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses.  “We didn’t get in _that_ late after reconnaissance last night,” he said.

“That’s not what I meant, Hawk,” Melinda said.

“I… what?” Clint replied.

Melinda rolled her eyes.  “You _did_ share a bed, right?” she said.  “And you’re telling me that you didn’t even try to get as much as a _cuddle_?”

Clint resisted the urge to groan, even as he felt his cheeks heat with a faint blush.  Melinda was the only person aside from Natasha who knew the depth of his feelings for Phil.  Clint was convinced that she liked to bring it up every so often just so she could embarrass him with the mocking.  “Seriously, Hawk,” she continued.  “If I had that handsome badass in my bed, no matter the pretense, I would have tried for more than a cuddle.”

“Now you sound like Nat,” Clint said.  “Have you forgotten we’re on a mission?”

“A mission where you have to pretend to be ridiculously in love with each other,” Melinda shot back.  “Take a few liberties, Clint.  You never know where they might lead.”

With a wink and a glance over her shoulder, Melinda moved off to serve some of the other guests, leaving Clint with his thoughts.  He followed her progress for a moment, grateful that most of the other guests were completely ignoring him.  Clint wasn’t sure he could cheerfully fake it for a stranger right at that minute.  Of course, he was also surrounded by couples sharing romantic moments, but Clint was learning to ignore that, despite his twinges of envy.

Sighing, Clint drank his coffee and tried to forget Melinda's teasing advice.  It didn’t help that he already felt like he’d crossed a line this morning when he’d caught a glimpse of Phil stepping out of the shower.  Clint now had the image of a wet, naked Phil Coulson burned into his brain and no privacy to do anything about it.  Clearing his throat, Clint dragged his attention back to King, but King still wasn’t doing much, so Clint was left without a distraction from his thoughts.

Ten minutes later, Phil slipped back into his seat with a small smile.  “Find out anything interesting?” Clint asked.

“Beaumont is definitely nervous,” Phil said.  “She’s got a good reason to be, too.  Whatever messages she’s relaying to King are about the supplies they’re storing in a shed at edge of the resort.  I’m betting they're intended for the operation we found last night.”

Clint eyebrows rose.  “I guess that answers the question about whether she and King know what’s going on,” he said.  “Did you find out what kind of supplies they’re storing?”

“The one crate I looked in had food and medical supplies in it,” Phil said grimly.  “Mostly bandages and syringes, but a lot of them.”

“Shit,” Clint swore.  “That’s not good.”

“Judging by how nervous Beaumont is, I think she’s going to try to convince King to move the crates soon,” Phil said.  “Possibly today.  I think they’re suspicious of Melinda, but I’m not sure if they know she’s an agent or if it’s just paranoia about strangers.”

Clint frowned, because that wasn’t good news no matter which way you looked at it.  “So what do we do?” he asked.

Phil arched an eyebrow, his lips quirking up into a small smirk.  “Well, what do you say about an unbelievably romantic afternoon spying on them around the resort?” he said.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Clint said dryly.  “You sure know how to treat a guy.”

~*~

“You know,” Clint said, leaning in to whisper in Phil’s ear.  “At this point I’m not sure if I’m happy or annoyed that King is _finally_ doing something interesting.”

For a moment, Clint's solid and familiar warmth pressed firmly against Phil's side from shoulder to thigh.  Ignoring the shiver that skittered down his spine, Phil arched an eyebrow in silent reply.  Clint huffed and rolled his eyes, his hand tightening around Phil’s.  The metal of Clint’s fake wedding ring dug slightly into Phil’s skin and Phil couldn't stop the faint hitch in his breathing.  They'd spent most of the afternoon walking around holding hands and Phil had been way too distracted by Clint's fingers curled through his.  Phil was an experienced operative, but today he was acting no better than a junior agent.  After brunch, he and Clint had started following King around, pretending to be exploring the resort a little.  The afternoon had been mostly uneventful, until Melinda had relayed the message that King had sent Beaumont to cover his shift in the restaurant.  Ten minutes after that, King had disappeared in the direction of the beach.  Clint and Phil had followed discretely, attempting to look just like a couple out on a romantic stroll.  Phil was a little worried King would notice the way he and Clint had been hanging around a lot, so when King glanced over his shoulder, Phil immediately pulled Clint behind a nearby hibiscus.

“Um,” Clint whispered, raising his eyebrows.  He leaned forward to speak in Phil’s ear again, his voice little more than a breath.  “Is there a reason why we’re hiding behind a bush?”

“I didn’t want King to realize we were following him,” Phil replied.

“I figured,” Clint said, “but… a bush?”

Letting out a slow breath, Phil acknowledged that he might be acting slightly ridiculous.  He huffed softly and caught Clint’s small flash of amusement.  “You know, for a man who regularly hides in trees, your tone is a little insulting to the vegetation,” Phil told him dryly.

Clint rolled his eyes.  “I only hide in trees when there are no buildings to sit on and you know it,” he said.

“Forgive me for not understanding the distinction,” Phil replied.

“Ssh,” Clint said, but there was amusement dancing in his eyes.  “I think King’s up to something.”

Phil bit back another smile.  “I’m breathless with excitement,” he said dryly.

“Shut up,” Clint said, fighting his own grin.

Ahead of them, King stopped and carefully looked up and down the beach.  Phil was glad that his paranoia had urged him to tug Clint behind the bush, because they were both hidden from King’s view.  Apparently convinced he was alone, King glanced at his watch, and disappeared into the rainforest bordering the beach.  Turning to Phil, Clint offered a wry smile.  “Well, that’s not suspicious,” he drawled softly.

“He’s definitely doing something,” Phil agreed.  “Do you think he knows we’re following him?”

Clint frowned.  “I don’t know,” he said, before he slid Phil a sidelong glance.  “Want to use some of your ninja skills and find out?”

Phil arched an eyebrow at him.  Clint rolled his eyes again.  “Come on,” he said, tugging Phil by the hand in the direction King had disappeared.

Phil followed Clint as they crept into the rainforest, trusting Clint’s sharp eyes to pick up if King noticed them.  Away from the cool breeze coming off the ocean and surrounded by the dense tropical vegetation, Phil felt the cotton of his t-shirt start to stick to the his skin.  King had paused in a small clearing not far from the beach and judging by the way he was looking at his watch again, King was waiting for someone.  Phil’s pulse jumped in anticipation, hoping this was the clue he and Clint had been waiting for to figure out what was going on at the resort.  Clint’s hand tightened around his again as Clint tugged them both down to crouch behind a tree with large, twisting roots.  It wasn’t much of a hiding place, but it was just inside the vegetation and probably the best vantage point they were going to get.  Phil hoped that whoever was meeting King wasn’t coming along the beach because the sand was still visible through the leaves behind them and they’d be spotted for sure.

A tense minute or so later, Clint nudged him.  “I think someone’s coming,” Clint breathed, his hand warm on Phil’s shoulder as he leaned in close again.

Phil picked up the sound of footsteps and a few seconds later, another man stepped out of the rainforest vegetation.  Beside Phil, Clint froze, his shoulders suddenly rigid with tension.  “Clint?” Phil breathed, turning to glance at the archer.

“That’s Kiraly,” Clint told him.

Phil sucked in a breath at the name of the missing AIM scientist.  He didn’t ask Clint if he was sure, because Clint wouldn’t have said anything if he wasn’t.  Eyeing the man again, Phil memorized his face.  Dressed in khakis and a loose, white shirt, Kiraly didn’t look particularly dangerous or amoral, but then mad scientists rarely wore black lab coats.  Besides, Phil had first hand experience with how appearances could be deceiving.  When Kiraly glanced behind him, Phil caught the hard gleam in Kiraly’s dark eyes.  “Why did you want to see me?” Kiraly demanded, his voice thick with what sounded like a Hungarian accent.

King frowned.  “We need to move the supplies,” he said.  “I don’t like the way Chang keeps watching things.”

Phil tensed at the mention of Melinda’s cover identity.  She’d been right - King was watching her for more reasons than just paranoia.

“Has she been trying to leave the resort or asking a lot of questions?” Kiraly said.

“No,” King replied grudgingly.

“Then we’re fine,” Kiraly snapped.  “Don’t interrupt me again.  I’m at a crucial stage in my preparations.  Besides, even if this woman thinks she knows something, it doesn’t matter.  In three days, I’ll have everything I need for the next stage in this project.”

King sent Kiraly a dark look.  “Just don’t forget who you’re sharing the profits with, okay?” he growled.

“I am well aware of your conditions, Lucas,” Kiraly said.  “Now if that is all, I want to get back to my experiments.”

King let the scientist go with another glare and Kiraly disappeared back into the rainforest.  Muttering to himself, King turned back towards the beach.  Phil ducked further behind the tree with a muffled curse.  King was heading straight towards where he and Clint were hiding, and with the beach at their back they had nowhere to go.  The only thing blocking King from seeing them was the tree.  Before Phil could figure out a plan that didn’t end up with them getting caught, Clint tugged him backwards until they hit the sand of the beach.  “I’ve got an idea,” Clint whispered.  “Just go with it, okay?”

With barely enough time to nod in reply, Phil found his legs knocked out from underneath him as Clint pushed him down into the sand.  Clint was on top of him a second later, his arms keeping most of his weight from landing on Phil, before Clint’s mouth covered his.  Phil gasped.  The kiss was hot, insistent and not at all how he'd imagined his first kiss with Clint, and Phil couldn’t stop the way he arched into it.  Sprawled across Phil's chest, Clint slipped clever fingers under Phil's t-shirt, impatiently tugging at the fabric.  His palms slid up Phil's sides as their legs tangled and Phil was finding it hard to hang on to rational thought.  He knew it was just a cover and Clint was putting on a show, but it didn’t stop the heat that raced through him or the way his hands automatically reached out to grab Clint’s hips.  Groaning roughly, Clint arched forward, unconsciously trying to get closer.  Phil slid one of his hands up Clint’s impressively muscled arm to tangle in his hair as he deepened the kiss.  He was vaguely aware of King passing them as muttering an insulting comment, but he no longer cared.  All he wanted to do was to keep kissing Clint.

Clint finally pulled back a long time after King had gone.  Both he and Phil were breathing heavily and for a moment, they simply stared at each other while Phil felt his heart pound in his chest.  Clint was flushed, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss and his hair even messier than usual from Phil’s fingers in it.  Phil had to push down the urge to pull Clint close again and finish what they’d started.  “I, uh, think he’s gone,” Clint said.

“Right,” Phil said, letting his hands slide out from underneath Clint’s t-shirt.  He blinked a little in surprise when Clint shivered in response.

Clint flashed him a somewhat sheepish smile as he climbed to his feet.  Reaching down a hand, Clint helped Phil stand, before he ran a hand through his hair.  “Uh, sorry,” he said.  “You know, for the kiss.  It was the only thing I could think of to stop King getting suspicious.”

Phil nodded and cleared his throat.  “It was good thinking,” he said softly, instead of confessing just how many times he’d imagined kissing Clint.

The silence felt heavy as they awkwardly stared at each other.  Since King had spotted them, they wouldn’t be able to follow him again if they wanted to keep a low profile - and that was even if they could find where King had gone.  Clint jerked his thumb over his shoulder.  “I should probably go and find Mel,” he said.  “Tell her to keep an eye out for King, since we can’t tail him for the rest of the day anymore.  I promise not to get into any trouble.”

The grin on Clint’s face was an imitation of his usual bright expression and Phil could see the way it didn’t quite reach his eyes.  “Sure,” Phil agreed, curling his hands in his jeans to stop himself reaching out for Clint again.  He didn’t know how to dispel the sudden worry in Clint’s eyes because he wasn’t sure what Clint was so worried _about_.  “I’ll see you back at the villa later?”

“Of course,” Clint said, his pasted-on grin fading a little as he stepped back again and shoved his hands into the pockets of his own jeans.

Phil watched Clint disappear down the beach, no doubt trying to get as far away from Phil as possible.  The easy friendship between them had almost evaporated after the kiss and suddenly things were almost unbearably awkward.  The whole thing had Phil reeling and confused.  He couldn’t figure out was if it was the kiss itself that had Clint fleeing, or if it had been the way Phil had so obviously kissed him back.  The only thing Phil _did_ know was that he really, really wanted to kiss Clint again.  It was an absolutely horrible idea, but that didn’t stop Phil from imagining what it would be like to have Clint kiss him like that and _mean it_.

With a sigh, Phil ran his hand over his face and started back to the villa.  He could brood over his reactions just as easily there as anywhere else.  It was just about time for him to check in with Jasper, anyway.  Maybe Jasper would even have some advice about what to do.  No matter how deep Phil’s feelings ran, he absolutely didn’t want to lose Clint’s friendship and trust over this.

~*~

What the _hell_ had he been thinking, kissing Phil like that?

Thumping back against the sand of the beach, Clint stared up at the stars and wondered why he’d been so stupid.  He and Phil were seasoned SHIELD agents - there had probably been at least three other things that didn’t involve kissing they could have used to avoid King seeing them.  Clint couldn’t think of any right now, but that didn’t mean there hadn’t been other options.  The problem was that Clint had _wanted_ to kiss Phil.  A lot.  Melinda had put the idea in his head and his brain had run with it, and now he’d probably made their working relationship all kinds of uncomfortable.

That wasn’t Clint’s only problem, either.  Even when he relaxed and let go a little, Phil was still as elusive as the rumours made him out to be.  Now that Clint had had a taste of what he kept hidden underneath, he just wanted more.  He wanted _everything_.  He wanted to wake up next to Phil in the mornings and grab dinner with him at night and argue about whose turn it was to do laundry and pick up the milk.  So far, this mission was one of the hardest Clint had ever been on because it was showing him glimpses of everything he’d ever wanted but couldn’t have.

Blowing out a sigh, Clint reached into his pocket to pull out his phone and dialed a number from memory without even really thinking about it.  It went against mission protocol, but that had never stopped him before.  Besides, he already knew that Natasha probably had more security on her phone that even Clint knew about.

“This had better be good,” Natasha growled into her phone when she answered.

Clint did a quick calculation of the time difference, wincing when he worked out how early it was back in New York.  “Uh, hi?” he said.

Natasha blew out a sigh.  “Clint?” she said, her tone warming when she realized who it was.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Clint said.

“Okay, what did you do?” Natasha asked.

“Why do you think I’ve done something?” Clint said, wondering exactly when his partner had started knowing him so well and what exactly that said about his life.

“You must have done something,” Natasha said, “because you wouldn’t be calling me if you hadn’t.  Instead, you’d finally be doing something about your ridiculous crush and finally taking Phil to bed.”

Clint felt his eyes widen at Natasha’s words.  “Ah, what?”

“You need to get laid, Clint.  Seriously.”

“Nat!” he protested.

“What?” she said.  “It’s true.  It’s not like actually sleeping with Phil will make your crush any worse.”

“It’s not just a crush, ridiculous or otherwise,” Clint snapped.

Natasha let out a soft sigh.  “I know,” she said quietly.  “I’m sorry.”  She paused for a moment.  “So what happened?”

Clint attempted to trace out patterns in the small clouds above him.  “I kissed Phil.”

Natasha was ominously silent for a beat.  “Shit, Clint,” she said.  “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Fuck off,” he replied, but there was a smile tugging reluctantly at his mouth all the same.  “It was for cover.  So the people we were following didn’t get suspicious of us.”  He paused for a moment, thinking.  “Does that even count as a kiss?”

“Barton,” Natasha said in the tone of voice she reserved for when she thought he was being particularly stupid.  “It doesn’t matter what the reason was.  Did you kiss Phil or not?”

The memory of the kiss wasn't far from Clint's mind.  Every time he shut his eyes, he could feel the ghost of Phil's body against his as he pushed Phil into the sand and the hot press of Phil's mouth against his.  “Yeah,” he admitted.  “I did.”

“And did he kiss you back?” Natasha said, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Well, yeah,” Clint said, “but it was _pretend_.”

Natasha snorted.  “I doubt that,” she muttered.  “Clint, you’ve wanted this for so long.  Why are you talking to me instead of finding Phil and kissing him again?”  She paused again.  “No, wait, don’t answer that.  You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

“I’m not hiding!” Clint said.  “I’m just taking a moment to _think_.”

“You’re brooding,” Natasha said flatly.

“I am not!” Clint protested.

“Clint, don’t make me smack you when you get back,” Natasha said, before her tone gentled.  “Take a chance.  Go after what you want for once.”

Clint stayed quiet for a moment, fidgeting with his pants.  He knew what Natasha was trying to tell him, he was just scared of taking that leap and telling Phil how he felt.  There was no going back from that.  It was completely irrational, but no matter how much of a home Clint had found at SHIELD, he'd been abandoned by too many people not to be terrified it would happen again.

As always, Natasha knew exactly where his thoughts had gone.  “The worst thing that could happen is that things get a little weird between you two for a while,” she said.  “Phil isn’t going to abandon you, Clint.  He’s always going to be your friend.  And besides, would I really be encouraging you to do something where I knew you were going to get hurt?”

“What about Budapest?” Clint joked in an attempt to distract himself from the meaning behind Natasha’s words.

“Clint,” Natasha sighed.

“Yeah,” Clint said softly.  “I know.  It’s just hard, okay?”

“Of course it’s hard,” Natasha replied.  “That’s what makes it worth it.”

Clint huffed out a sigh.  “Are you sure I can’t just send him an anonymous letter or something instead?”

“You could,” Natasha said, “but if you do, I’m going to smack you.”

“That’s your way of telling me you’re getting sick of me not doing anything about this, isn’t it?” Clint said wryly.

“Just a little,” Natasha replied, but Clint could hear the trace of amusement in her tone.

“You’re a good friend, Nat,” Clint told her quietly.

“I know,” Natasha said.

Clint laughed.  They were both silent for a minute and Clint tried to take courage from Natasha’s slow, steady breathing.  “Okay,” he said finally.  “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck,” Natasha said with a laugh.  “Just take off your shirt.”

“Not everything can be solved with sex, Nat,” Clint told her.

Natasha snorted.  “Like I said before,” she said.  “It’s not like it will _hurt_ the situation.”

Clint grinned up at the sky for a moment.  “I’m hanging up now,” he said.

“Okay,” Natasha replied.  “Just think about it, will you?”

“ _Goodbye_ , Nat,” Clint said pointedly, barely waiting for her answering farewell before he disconnected the call.

It didn’t take Clint long to wander back to the villa, but he hadn’t realized how long he’d been dwelling on things.  The sun was dipping close to the horizon, but there were no obvious lights shining in the bedroom or the living room and the whole villa was quiet.  A jolt of fear sliding through him, Clint was suddenly terrified something had happened to Phil.  Grabbing one of his knives, he slipped inside on silent feet, scanning the lengthening shadows for anything suspicious.  He sagged in relief a second later when he spotted Phil’s slumped figure on the couch, asleep.  As Clint watched, Phil blinked awake slowly, the way he only ever did when he recognized and trusted the person in the room with him.  Clint pretended, like always, Phil’s trust didn’t make his knees feel a little weak.

“Clint…?” Phil said, his voice rough.

“Sorry,” Clint replied.  “I didn’t mean to stay away so long.”

“It’s okay,” Phil mumbled.  “I’m glad you came back.”

Clint blinked for a moment, his brain struggling to process Phil’s sleepy words.  With a start, Clint realized Phil had been _worried_ and he felt hope bloom in his chest.  Maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone in his feelings as he thought.  “I’m not going anywhere, Phil,” he said.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Phil sat up, scattering the notes that had been resting on his chest all over the floor.  Clint bit back a smile as Phil huffed in annoyance.  The setting sun painted Phil’s skin gold and red, turning him soft at the edges.  Clint swallowed heavily and looked away, before he blurted out something stupid.  He might have agreed it was time to talk to Phil about his feelings, but he wasn’t going to start that conversation by giving in to his lack of brain-to-mouth filter.  “Want some coffee?” he asked instead, trying to distract himself from the urge to yank Phil up by his t-shirt and finish what they’d started at the beach.

“Sounds good,” Phil replied.

There was a moment of semi-awkward silence between them that Clint wasn’t sure how to fill.  Instead, he headed for the kitchenette to put the coffee on.  “So,” he said, clearing his throat when Phil stayed quiet.  “What did Jasper have to say?”

“Jasper had a few of the junior agents go over all the mission details again.  They found a loose connection between the third missing couple and this island,” Phil said.  “So it looks like whatever Kiraly and King are up to involves the kidnappings.”

Clint hummed thoughtfully.  “We pretty much knew that already though, right?” he replied.  “This just proves it?”

“We did,” Phil agreed and when Clint brought the two coffee mugs back out to the couch, Phil was frowning.

Wordlessly, Clint held out one of the mugs for Phil to take, before settling down in the space Phil had made for him at the other end of the couch. Phil stared down at the contents of the mug, his frown deepening, but Clint knew the expression wasn’t directed at the coffee.  “Okay,” Clint said.  “You’ve got frowny face.  What is it?”

Phil sighed quietly.  “Nothing going on makes any sense.”

“How so?” Clint asked, sipping his coffee.

“Well, why did Kiraly come _here_ when he went rogue from AIM?” Phil said.  “And for that matter, why is he working with King?  King isn’t a player in underground circles.  He doesn’t even have a criminal record.  So what exactly is King bringing to the relationship?”

“Access to a remote island where no one would think to look for Kiraly?” Clint suggested.

Phil sighed again, his eyes drawn to the setting sun outside the villa windows.  “It’s a good place to hide, I agree,” he said, “but I just…”  He turned back to look at Clint.  “I just can’t help thinking that Kiraly should have had several equally hidden places he could have gone instead of here.  Places with all the underworld contacts he’d want to finish his research.”

Clint considered that for a moment.  While the remoteness of Bedarra Island was definitely a benefit for whatever Kiraly was working on, supplies would be hard to get.  Not without someone who knew the local black market trades better than King did.  Kiraly might have been finding his victims through the resort, but Clint couldn’t believe the island was the only place he could do that, either.  “Maybe Kiraly trusts King in a way he wouldn’t trust any of his other contacts?” he suggested.  “Particularly if Kiraly got further in his research than the other scientists.  He’d have to know AIM would be pissed.  So what if he went to someone he knew wouldn’t sell him out?”

“That would imply…” Phil began, before he trailed off in a stream of curses.

“What is it?” Clint asked, unconsciously tensing.

“Kiraly,” Phil said.  “The surname.  It means ‘king’.”

For a moment, Clint felt his own urge to swear.  “King is Kiraly’s _brother_?” he said.

Phil nodded.  “Maybe.  I’ll have Jasper check it out.”

As Phil got up to call in a coded message to Jasper, Clint sighed and flicked on the nearby lamp.  Maybe he could go over the notes Melinda had found in King’s room while he waited.  Now that they knew Kiraly was working with King, Clint was pretty sure the notes were from the missing AIM scientist.  If he could figure out how to translate them, he and Phil could hopefully figure out what exactly Kiraly was trying to do.  Unfortunately, none of the cyphers Clint was familiar with seemed to be working.  He’d even tried translating the code into French and Italian just for kicks.

When Phil wandered back into the living room, Clint was trying to stifle a large yawn, exhaustion beginning to catch up with him again.  “Want me to call out for dinner?” Phil asked quietly.

Clint shook his head.  “Nah, I’m okay.  I grabbed a bite when I checked in with Melinda.  I think I’m just going to go to bed.  I think the time zones are still messing me up.”  Glancing at the couch, Clint momentarily debated whether he should sleep in the living room, before he sucked in a deep breath and told himself to stop being stupid.  Feeling a little abashed, he ducked his head and glanced up at Phil through his lashes.  “We can talk about everything else in the morning, right?”

Phil was silent for a long moment.  “Sure,” he said finally.  “I think I’ll head to bed too.”

Together, they headed for the bedroom and Clint exchanged his jeans and t-shirt for a pair of sweatpants before crawling onto the bed.  He curled up in his usual spot, one hand automatically reaching under his pillow for the knife he stashed there.  The mattress dipped a few minutes later when Phil joined him and settled the blankets around them both.  Phil was a reassuringly solid presence at his back and Clint shivered a little at the warm press of skin against his.  When Phil moved as if to carefully shift away, Clint reached back with a hand to grab his arm and stop him.  For a moment, Phil tensed.  Clint wondered if he was going to say something, before Phil relaxed again and pressed a little firmer against Clint’s back.  Clint smiled into his pillow.

“Goodnight, Clint,” Phil whispered.

“Night, Phil.”

~*~

 


	4. Threat Assessment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint finally talk, and the puzzle pieces start coming together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just another thank you to Kisleth, who came up with the genius solution to the cipher in this chapter. All credit must go to her <3

Phil blinked awake early the next morning, still exhausted from half-remembered dreams.  He still wasn’t sure what to make of yesterday’s kiss - or Clint’s reaction to it.  There was a part of Phil still bracing himself for a polite but firm explanation that Clint was his friend, but was never going to be anything more.  Knowing for certain that Clint wanted nothing more than friendship would hurt, Phil wouldn’t deny that, but he had always been pragmatic enough to know he hadn’t been anyone’s idea of a prize since he’d hit forty.  He also had Clint’s friendship and trust and he wouldn’t trade that for anything.  Of course, that didn’t mean Phil was strong enough to pull away from the strong arm that had wound its way around Phil’s waist and the legs tangled with his.  Caught between asleep and awake, Phil nestled closer to Clint’s warm chest.  Just for a minute.

He must have fallen asleep again, because the next thing Phil became aware of was the shift in the mattress as Clint pulled away.  Phil instinctively reached out, but when his brain caught up to his hand, Phil felt his cheeks heat.  The movement had been automatic, prompted by Phil’s continuous impulse to keep Clint close and safe.  When he was completely conscious, he usually had enough control not to do that.  For a minute, Phil wondered if he could keep his eyes shut, but he hadn’t become a senior agent by being cowardly.  Blinking open his eyes, Phil caught the way the corner of Clint’s mouth curved up into a smile.  “Morning,” Clint greeted.  “I think there’s someone at the door.”

“Right,” Phil replied.

Sitting up, Phil rubbed a hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up before he did anything else embarrassing.  A sharp knock echoed through the villa - no doubt the sound that had woken Clint - but at the following silence, Phil lowered his hand and glanced over at the archer.  When he found Clint’s gaze lingering on his naked chest, another blush stole across Phil’s cheeks.  “Sorry,” he said quietly.  “I can put on a shirt?”

“No,” Clint replied quickly and to Phil’s amazement, when Clint glanced up, his eyes were dark.  An appreciative smirk curved across Clint’s face.  “No need to do that on my account.”

“I… what?” Phil said, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied Clint for a moment.

Another knock sounded at the door, this time impatient.  “Shit,” Clint swore.  “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

Clint paused long enough to catch Phil’s nod in reply, because he disappeared to answer the door.  Grabbing a t-shirt, Phil followed, hoping it wasn’t Melinda with bad news.  Clint was hiding a knife against his forearm and Phil paused in the doorway to the living room, almost going back for his gun, just in case.  A second later, Phil was thankful he hadn’t as Clint opened the door to Jocelyn Beaumont’s smiling face, another staff member visible just over her shoulder.  For a moment, Clint just blinked at her.  He looked adorably befuddled with his low-slung sleep pants and messy hair, but Phil _knew_ he was cataloging Beaumont’s every weakness.  “Um… hi?” Clint said.

“Good morning, Mr Cole,” Beaumont said cheerfully.  “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Phil was grateful for his ever-present sense of paranoia that meant he’d packed all the notes and equipment out of sight the night before.  No matter the way Beaumont was trying to unobtrusively scan the villa, there was nothing for her to see.  “Oh, uh… no,” Clint said, stepping back.  “Do you want to come in?”

“There’s nothing wrong, is there?” Phil asked, stepping up to place a hand on Clint’s back.  Clint curled towards him, his skin warm underneath Phil’s palm, but Phil could feel the tension running through his muscles.

Beaumont’s gaze slid over Clint as she stepped into the villa, a knowing smirk crossing her face for an instant.  Her eyes sharply scanned the room, and Phil wasn’t sure if she was looking for something specific, but hopefully she wouldn’t find it.  Behind her, the waiter trailed in carrying a large tray.  From what Phil could see, it was filled with various breakfast foods, including several covered dishes and plates of melon, pineapple and mango.  When Phil gestured to the small kitchenette, the waiter moved over to set the tray down.

“I just wanted to offer you a complimentary breakfast on behalf of the resort,” Beaumont said, turning her attention to Clint and Phil again.

Phil hoped his smile didn’t seem as forced as it felt.  “That’s kind of you,” he replied.

“Mmm, I think we need a good breakfast after last night, don’t we, babe?” Clint added with a playful smile, almost plastering himself to Phil’s side.

As always, Clint was impossibly warm and Phil took a moment to enjoy the way Clint pressed to his side.  Clearing his throat, Phil glanced back at Beaumont.  She was watching them both avidly and Phil realized she was probably trying to spot if he and Clint were the newlywed couple they claimed to be.  “He does have an appetite,” Phil told her, shifting a hand to rest more possessively on Clint’s hip.

“I’m glad your honeymoon is just what you hoped it would be,” Beaumont said.

Clint ducked his head towards Phil, his smile turning bashful.  “Yeah, it’s… great.  Perfect, even,” he said.

Phil had to remind himself that Clint was _acting_ as his stomach swooped.  He allowed some of his emotions to filter into his smile as Clint pulled back, his expression turning soft and slightly goofy around the edges.  “Yeah, it is,” he agreed quietly, leaning forward to catch Clint’s lips in a kiss, because that was what newlywed couples did.  It certainly had nothing to do with the way Phil simply wanted to.

“That’s just wonderful,” Beaumont said, apparently satisfied for now.  “If there is anything else you need at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Phil forced his attention away from the way Clint’s eyes gleamed blue-green in the morning light.  As she left, Beaumont gave them a final polite smile, the other man behind her.  Phil waited until they’d both disappeared from sight, before stepping away from Clint and shutting the door.  He immediately missed the solid warmth of Clint at his side.  “Well,” Clint said dryly, trailing his hand down Phil’s arm soothingly as he wandered over to the food.  “That was fun.”

Phil couldn’t stop the way his eyes followed Clint, watching Clint hum happily as he uncovered a plate of waffles.  With a knowing smirk, Clint slid his teasing gaze sliding over to Phil.  “Hungry?” he asked.  “They brought some pretty delicious looking stuff, even if it was just a chance to check us out.”

Shaking himself out of his daze, Phil offered Clint a smile that felt uncertain at the edges.  “I think I’m just going to make myself some coffee,” he said.

Clint studied him for a moment, before shrugging.  “You’re missing out, but okay,” he replied, filling a plate high with eggs, waffles and fruit.

After he’d brewed a pot of coffee, Phil retreated outside to the deck.  He hoped the spectacular view and warm morning sun would help him regain a measure of calm.  Unfortunately, even standing in paradise couldn’t stop the swirl of emotions and desires going through Phil’s mind.  It was as if Phil was being torn in two directions, with the mission on one side and finally figuring out Clint’s feelings for him on the other.  Phil wondered if he should be dreading his and Clint’s coming conversation as much as he was, because dread was definitely turning his stomach into knots.

A little while later, he heard the sliding doors open behind him and Clint came padding out.  When Phil tore his eyes away from the tropical blue ocean, he noticed Clint was carrying a large plate, which he placed on the table near Phil.  “You should eat something,” Clint said when he caught where Phil’s gaze had gone.

Phil grimaced, the thought of food not sitting well with his stomach.  “Coffee’s fine,” he replied.

“Yeah, no,” Clint said, sauntering up to where Phil stood.  “You need to eat, Phil.”

“Clint…”  Trailing off, Phil blinked as Clint reached out to touch the furrow between his brows with his fingertips.

“This has really got you all turned around, hasn’t it?” Clint said softly.

Letting out a sigh, Phil reached out to put down his coffee mug next to the plate.  “Clint…” he tried again, but Clint just cut him off again, this time with a finger pressed against his lips.

Clint was still shirtless and Phil had to clench his hand into a fist to stop himself reaching out to touch that golden skin.  Breathlessly, he watched as Clint leaned in, a faint smile still curving Clint’s mouth and his eyes darkening as they flickered over Phil’s face.  Clint’s movements were deliberate as he closed the distance between them and brushed his lips against Phil’s.  The sensation sending shivers up and down Phil’s spine as his heart began to beat faster.  When Phil didn’t pull away, Clint leaned forward again.  The kiss was firmer this time, and Phil was helpless not to grab Clint by the hips and pull him close.  He melted against Clint’s strong chest, sinking into the heat of the kiss as Clint gave a soft groan and opened his mouth under Phil’s.  Unlike the day before, there was nothing hurried or frantic about this kiss, and no one was watching them.  It wasn’t for cover or as a distraction.  Instead, it was just Clint kissing him because Clint _wanted_ to.  Phil felt hyperaware of the way the breeze brushing against his skin, the strength of Clint’s arms curled around his waist and the heat from Clint’s body slowly seeping through the fabric of his t-shirt.  All the hope, desire and love Phil had been holding back crashing through him until it felt like he was going to burst at the seams with the force of it all.  The soft, needy sounds Clint was making at the back of his throat were slowly setting Phil on fire.  He’d lost all his defenses when it came to Clint and now he was cracked open down the middle, everything spilling out for the world to see.

After what felt like forever and yet no time at all, Clint pulled back slightly.  It took a moment for them to catch their breath and stop smiling at each other long enough to speak.  “So…” Clint began, before he cleared his throat.

“You wanted to talk?” Phil said when Clint didn’t continue.

Clint shrugged.  “I figured we should,” he replied.  “I know how you like that kind of shit.”

Phil took a deep breath and attempted to gather the tattered remains of his professionalism around him.  “We should probably…” he started to say.

“Hey,” Clint interrupted, reaching up to cup Phil’s face, fingers splayed out across Phil’s jaw.  “Don’t do that.  Don’t be Agent Coulson right now.  Please.”

Phil felt his breath leave him in a rush.  He was so confused, but somewhere deep in his chest a sense of freewheeling hope was growing brighter.  “I don’t know what you want from me,” he told Clint quietly.

“I would have thought that was obvious,” Clint said wryly.

Frowning, Phil stared at Clint for a moment as the hope in his chest dimmed.  Uncertainty sent butterflies coursing through his stomach.  This was why he was so terrible at personal relationships - nothing was obvious to him.  Clint must have read some of that on Phil’s face, because his entire expression turned serious.  “I want to take you out to dinner, Phil,” he said.  “I want us to watch movies and stupid TV shows on the couch like we do already, but I don’t want that occasionally, I want it all the time.  I want to wake up together like we did this morning and lazy kisses and eventually, I want to take you to bed.”

“Oh,” Phil said, his head swimming dizzyingly as he tried to process Clint’s words.

“If that’s something you want?” Clint added hopefully, shifting as if he was going to step back.

“Yes,” Phil said in a rush, tightening his grip on Clint so the other man wouldn’t go anywhere.  He took another deep breath, looking Clint directly in the eyes and let his mask drop until Clint could see everything he was hiding.  “I _definitely_ want that.”

The smile that dawned across Clint’s face was soft and sweet and happier than anything Phil had seen from him before.  “Okay, good,” he said.  “So we’re going to do this?”

Phil arched an eyebrow, but the effect was ruined by the slightly giddy smile on his face.  “I believe it’s called a relationship,” he replied dryly.

“Oh, shut up,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.  Then he frowned.  “There’s no regs against it, are there?”  He huffed when Phil shot him a look.  “Not that kind.  I’m well aware SHIELD has no rules against fraternization,” Clint grumbled.  “I mean with you being my handler?”

Phil hesitated, unsure of how to say what he needed to.  “There’s no set rules against it, no,” he said carefully.  “You need to be sure, though, Clint.  Will you really be happy getting orders from someone you’re dating?  I’ll still have authority over you in the field…”

“You can’t really tell me sex is going to change what we already have,” Clint cut in.  “You already disregard orders to rescue me and listen to me when I have problems with a mission.”  He paused, stroking his thumb distractingly over Phil’s cheekbone.  “Phil, I trust you.  Plus, have you ever seen me blindly following orders?”

“That’s true enough,” Phil admitted with the ghost of a smile.  “It’s just… I’ve never been in this situation before.  Fury may decide to reassign one of us when we tell him, anyway.”

Clint smiled reassuringly, leaning in for a brief kiss.  “It’ll be worth it,” he said softly.  “No matter what happens.”

Phil dropped his head to rest it against Clint’s.  “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Clint replied.

As much as Phil wanted to keep standing there with Clint in his arms, eventually he had to pull away.  Reaching for his coffee, he smiled when Clint nudged him in the direction of the plate he’d brought out.  “Breakfast, Phil,” he said.  “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

Phil was suddenly struck by how _normal_ it was to have Clint nagging him to eat.  Clint had done it a million times over the years, bringing Phil coffee and food when he’d been working late.  Shaking his head, he had to admit Clint was right - not much _would_ actually change now that they were dating.  “Why do I get the feeling you have plans for after I eat this?” he asked dryly.

The sly smile Phil got in reply wasn’t unexpected.  Phil sipped his coffee and waited, grimacing faintly at the cool temperature.  “Well,” Clint drawled, his eyes glinting.  “How do you feel about a little B&E?”

~*~

Surprisingly, the breaking and entering part of the morning was easy.  Gaining access to the staff areas of the resort hadn’t been hard - Clint had learned a long time ago that almost no one stopped you if you looked like you knew what you were doing.  With almost all the staff in other parts of the resort, he and Phil had pretty much just walked straight up to the door to King’s room.  Getting inside the room hadn’t been a challenge either - they’d just needed a little ingenuity and a set of lockpicks.  Phil, being the badass that he was, had gotten them inside in less than thirty seconds, which Clint _really_ appreciated.  Unfortunately, it turned out Phil had rules about how Clint was allowed to show that appreciation in the middle of a mission.  King’s room had been messy, but it still hadn’t taken Phil and Clint long to find what they were looking for.  Clint had been vaguely embarrassed at how easy it had been - who taped coded notes to the underside of desk drawers anymore? - and now Phil had a copy of the coded notes and the keycard safely tucked into his pocket.  Afterwards, they’d headed back to their villa, and Clint had persuaded Phil to take a walk along the beach with him on the way to checking in with Melinda.  Clint was determined to savour the last few minutes until the mission intruded again.

Phil nudged Clint’s shoulder with his, breaking into Clint’s thoughts.  Glancing over, Clint found Phil watching him, a faint furrow on Phil’s forehead.  “Is everything okay?” Phil asked quietly.

Clint smiled, tightening his hand where it was curled around Phil’s.  “Everything’s _great_ ,” he replied.

Ducking his head, Phil turned his face towards the ocean, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses.  The way Phil looked so shyly pleased every time Clint said things like that was unexpectedly charming, but Clint was kind of looking forward to the point when Phil _didn't_ look so surprised at the way Clint felt about him.  When Phil accepted it.  The prospect of that felt good and solid in Clint’s mind.

Clint nudged Phil.  “Is everything okay with you?” he asked.

Phil turned back, a smile curving his mouth.  “Yes, of course,” he said.

Shaking his head fondly, Clint tugged on Phil’s hand.  For a moment, Phil resisted.  When Clint tugged harder, Phil stumbled forward, crashing into Clint with a grunt and sending them both staggering backwards a few steps.  Clint grabbed Phil around the waist in an attempt to keep them both standing, Phil’s hands ending up on his shoulders.  He was still chuckling softly when he leaned forward for a kiss.  Clint wasn’t sure how long they stood there, trading soft, lazy kisses, but it couldn’t have been longer than a minute or two before something shockingly cool ran over his bare feet.  The water was surprisingly cold for a tropical island and when Clint pulled back, he had to laugh at the grimace on Phil’s face as water soaked into the bottom of Phil’s jeans.

Phil sighed, pressing a brief kiss to Clint’s lips.  “You are a menace.”

Clint grinned and shrugged, unrepentant.  

Up the beach ahead of them was the resort restaurant, where both Beaumont and Melinda had duties that morning.  Rolling his eyes, Phil grabbed Clint’s hand again and started walking in that direction.  “Come on,” he said.  “I want coffee.”

They headed up the stairs from the beach, the wood underneath Clint’s feet worn smooth.  With a soft smile, Phil pulled Clint close and curled an arm around Clint’s waist.  Since it was still between breakfast and lunch, the deck overlooking the ocean was mostly empty.  Beaumont was visible through the glass walls of the restaurant itself, busy setting tables.  Clint and Phil took a seat at the far end of the deck, ignoring the way Beaumont was so obviously watching them.  Idly, Clint scanned the rest of the resort around him, but there was no sign of either King or Harris.  Clint wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“How can I help you this morning, sirs?” Melinda asked as she appeared at their table.

Clint bit back his automatic greeting, knowing Beaumont was still watching Melinda.  Phil would probably kill him if he made Beaumont suspicious of them too, particularly after that morning.

“Two black coffees, thanks,” Phil ordered.

Melinda gave them both a subtle nod, her eyes flicking towards Beaumont for a second, before he retreated back in the direction of the kitchens.

“Well,” Clint drawled.  “I see talking to Mel is going to be interesting.”

Phil glanced at him, an eyebrow arched above his sunglasses and the hint of a sly smile at the corner of his mouth.  “Melinda is hardly going to stop doing what she needs to do just because she's being watched,” he replied dryly.

Smirking, Clint shook his head slightly.  He’d seen Melinda in action before and he didn’t doubt Phil’s words at all.  Flicking his gaze towards Beaumont again, Clint stretched his hand out across the table, grinning when Phil reached out to tangle their fingers together.  The gesture might not have been large, but Clint still wanted to spend the rest of his life having moments like this.  “So what next?” he asked Phil quietly.

“We need to check in with Jasper,” Phil said just as softly.  “And we also need to figure out what’s so important in those notes that Kiraly had to code them.”

Clint frowned.  Hopefully having a full copy of the notes would help them, because he hadn’t had any luck cracking the code when he’d tried the last time.  “Yeah,” he said.  “I’ve actually been thinking about that.”

“About the codes?” Phil asked.

“No, about what Kiraly is trying to do,” Clint said.  “Mostly on why he had King and his lackeys kidnap couples.”

Phil considered that for a moment.  “You don’t think that’s just because of the resort?” he said.  “It would be hard to kidnap one person in a couple without raising attention and it would also double his pool of victims.”

Clint hummed as he thought that over.  “It might just be that,” he agreed.  “But…”

“But you think there’s more to it.”  Phil didn’t phrase it as a question.

“I do,” Clint said.  It was almost jarring to think about Kiraly’s horrifying plans while surrounded by paradise, but Clint wasn’t a stranger to the dark secrets hidden by a perfect appearance.  “The two first victims weren’t kidnapped from here and they were both single.  I think Kiraly changed his plans… and all the reasons I can think of about why are definitely not good.”

“No,” Phil agreed.  “Not when the victims are so high profile either.”

They fell into silence for a while, until Melinda arrived with their coffees.  Phil smiled and nodded his thanks, easily palming the folded piece of paper Melinda handed him when she passed over his cup.  Melinda used her body to block the movement from Beaumont’s gaze, and Clint tried not to resent the way Phil was forced to let go of his hand.  He barely waited for Melinda to retreat again before he raised his eyebrows.  “Well?” he said.

Phil huffed.  “I’m not going to read it while Beaumont is watching us, Clint,” he said.

Rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, Clint sipped his coffee.  “Yeah, yeah,” he said, fighting a smile.

When Phil huffed again, Clint gave in and grinned.  Sometimes he just couldn’t help being a smartass.  Over the years, he’d had a lot of practice in knowing when Phil was getting really irritated with him, and he knew Phil wasn’t close to that yet.  Letting the conversation turn to idle chatter, Clint watched Phil as they finished their coffees.  It wasn’t really anything to do with the mission, but more because he could now.  When they’d finished, they headed back towards the villa along the beach, hand in hand.  Beaumont’s eyes practically burned a hole in the space between Clint’s shoulder blades as they left.  “Beaumont’s up to something,” he said as they hit the sand.

“I’m getting that feeling too,” Phil agreed.

Clint cocked his head.  “So what did Mel’s note say?” he asked.

“She’s going to come and find us in an hour.  She has news,” Phil replied, holding out the napkin Melinda had written on so Clint could see the familiar graceful print.

“Awesome,” Clint said dryly.  “Because that’s not ominous at all.”

Phil shook his head slightly, before reaching out his arm and sliding it around Clint’s waist again.  “I’m sure you can find something to occupy yourself while we wait,” he said.

Clint smirked, a million flippant answers running through his mind at Phil’s words.  Instead of voicing them, he slipped his hand into the back pocket of Phil’s jeans.  A bad feeling was beginning to curl through Clint’s stomach, a sign of bad things to come, and Clint was even more determined to enjoy the relative peace while he could.  “Yeah,” he said softly.

They walked the rest of the way back to the villa in silence.

~*~

Phil wasn’t sure whether to worry or not at how quiet Clint was being.  After so many days lazing around the resort, Clint should have been restless, but he wasn't.  Instead, he seemed almost strangely contemplative.  After returning to the villa, Phil had retreated outside to soak up a little sun as he went over the mission files again.  Clint had joined him, sprawling out across the other lounge chair in nothing more than a tiny pair of swim trunks.  Ostensibly, Clint was going over the copy of coded notes they'd stolen from King's room, but Phil was pretty sure Clint didn't need to be shirtless for that.  He might have said Clint was trying to be distracting, but Clint hadn't indulged in any of his usual quips or puns.

Sighing, Phil tried to focus on the intel report he’d been going over, but he couldn't concentrate.  There was a niggle of doubt in the back of his mind and Phil couldn't keep it from invading his thoughts.  Clint wasn't already regretting their newly acknowledged relationship, Phil knew that.  His subdued behavior had a million other explanations.  Phil just couldn't seem to convince his heart of that.  It didn't help that he was already on edge after the note Melinda had slipped him.  The fact that she was willing to sneak over to see them with Beaumont watching her so closely was worrying.  Phil suspected he wasn't going to like the Melinda's news, especially considering what Kiraly was up to.  Odds were time was running out for the kidnapped couples.

The phone beside him vibrated suddenly, breaking Phil out of his brooding.  Clint glanced up at the noise and offered Phil a small smile, before rising gracefully to his feet and stretching lazily.  Blinking, Phil forced himself to look away from the play of muscle under Clint’s golden skin.  Turning his attention to his phone, Phil read the caller ID and resisted the urge to sigh.  “Hey, Jasper,” he greeted, hoping it wasn't more bad news.

“Morning, Romeo,” Jasper replied.  In the background, Phil heard the loud growl of quinjet engines and smiled at the familiar sounds of a SHIELD team prepping for a mission.  A second later, there was the click of a closing door and the chaos was muffled.

“So what’s the news?” Phil asked.

“You’re not going to like it,” Jasper replied.

“That bad, huh?” Phil said, dryly.

A second later, Phil glanced up at Clint when the other man nudged Phil with his hip.  While Phil had been talking to Jasper, Clint had disappeared inside to fetch more coffee. Phil reached for his re-filled mug gratefully, blinking a little when Clint didn’t retreat.  Instead, Clint shoved Phil's laptop to the side, before settling down next to him.  He slid an arm around Phil's waist, unabashedly plastering himself to Phil’s side, and hooked his chin over Phil's shoulder.

Over the phone, Jasper sighed.  “It’s worse.  You were right.  Lucas King is Edvin Kiraly’s brother.  Or rather, half-brother.  Kiraly was born to King’s father’s mistress,” he said.  “As far as we can tell, the brothers met during the couple of years King spent in Europe, although we can’t dig up anything exact.”

Phil grimaced, even though he’d been expecting the news.  “At least we know why Kiraly went to King now,” he said.

“That’s about all we know,” Jasper said.  “The analysts have almost given up on deciphering the fragments May passed on, so we have no idea what Kiraly is up to.”

“I might be able to help with that,” Phil told him.  “Clint and I managed to get into King’s room this morning.  He’s still working on breaking the code, but we have a full copy of the notes now.  We also managed to get a copy of King’s access card for the buildings Kiraly is using as a base.”

“Fuck, Coulson, that is _great_ news,” Jasper said.  Phil knew a large grin was spreading over the other agent’s face even though he couldn't see it.  “I've got a SHIELD strike team prepping now," Jasper added.  "We’ll be wheels up in thirty, which means we should be hitting the island around sunrise, local time.”

Phil raised both his eyebrows in surprise and repeated the news to Clint when the archer hummed in curiosity.  “About time you got your ass here, Jasper,” Clint said, leaning over to speak into the phone.  “We’ve been doing all the work.”

Then Clint stiffened beside Phil, his sharp gaze snapping up in the direction of the beach.  Ignoring Jasper’s sarcastic reply to Clint’s teasing, Phil wondering if he should be reaching for a weapon.  When Clint suddenly relaxed against him again, Phil let out a slow breath and arched his eyebrow.  “It’s just Melinda,” Clint said.

“Hold on, Jasper,” Phil said into the phone.  “Clint says Melinda’s almost here and she has some news she wants to share.”

Thirty seconds later, Melinda jogged up the stairs onto the villa’s deck.  An amused smirk flashed across her face at the way Clint had draped himself over Phil’s shoulder, an amused smirk flashing across her face.  Phil rolled his eyes at her and took the phone away from his ear, thumbing the call onto speaker as he did.  “Jasper,” he said when Melinda shot him a questioning look.

“Agent May,” Jasper greeted over the phone.  “Coulson says you have news?”

Melinda nodded as she carefully sat down on Clint’s now-empty lounger.  “I do,” she agreed.  “I’ve been keeping an eye on Beaumont and King and I overheard them talking earlier.  I know who they’re planning to make their next victims.”

“Who?” Clint asked and Phil could feel the tension suddenly running through his whole body.

Melinda arched an eyebrow.  “You,” she said.  “Or rather, Phillip and Clint Cole.”

Phil sighed.  He’d been half expecting news like that.  “Awesome,” Clint muttered sarcastically.

“That’s not all,” Melinda said.

“Please tell me the mission isn’t about to go to shit,” Jasper said via the phone.  “The strike team and I won’t be there for another eight hours.”

“I covered the front desk for an hours this morning,” Melinda said, ignoring Jasper’s complaint.  “And I checked the computer system.  According to the reservation list, one of the kidnapped couples is due to check in this afternoon.”

Phil immediately straightened.  “Who?” he asked.

“Ben Williams and Sylvia Chen,” Melinda answered.  “Sylvia is the younger sister of Donald Chen, CEO of Neutron Biomedical.”

Jasper swore loudly.  “They were also the first couple to go missing.”

Clint frowned.  “If they were the some of the first victims, what the hell are they doing coming back here?” he said.

Phil let out a slow breath, a dozen horrifying implications running through his head.  “They’re not coming back,” he said.  “They never left the island.”  He glanced up and watched the way anger sparked in Clint’s eyes.  “Whatever Kiraly is up to, I think this is his attempt to test it.”

“Fuck,” Clint swore.  “I hate mind-control shit.”

“Clint and I will both keep our eye out for Williams and Chen,” Phil told Jasper.  “And Kiraly, if he ventures out to observe them.”

“Just be careful,” Jasper warned.  “You three are on your own until I get there with the strike team and I’d rather not have to immediately launch a rescue op, if you don’t mind.  Kiraly’s idea of spycraft is something out of the Cold War.  If you get your ass caught by him, Coulson, it’ll just be embarrassing.”

Phil nodded, even though Jasper couldn’t see it.  He was more worried about the sharp glare Melinda was directing at him, anyway.  “We’ll keep our distance,” he said.

“Uh huh,” Jasper said, his voice thick with skepticism.  “Sure you will.”

“Holy shit, that’s it!” Clint said, leaping to his feet.  Grabbing a pen and some of the notes off the lounger Melinda was sitting on, he turned back to Phil.  Using the back of Phil’s shoulder as a table, started scribbling.

“Clint?” Phil asked.

“Give me a sec,” Clint replied.

“What’s Bird Brain doing?” Jasper said.

Phil wasn’t sure, but Melinda looked amused.  “My guess is that he just figured out how to break Kiraly’s code,” Phil said.

For a few minutes, all Phil could hear were the soft crashed of waves on the nearby beach and the quiet crinkle of paper as Clint finished his decryption.  “Ha!” Clint said, before he grinned in triumph.  “I’ve got it!  That asshole was using a Caesarian Shift cipher, which should have been easy to crack, except the notes were written in Hungarian and then phonetically translated to Greek.”

Blinking, Phil couldn’t help but be impressed.  He’d always known Clint hid a terrifying intelligence, but it was moments like this that reminded him exactly how smart the archer actually was.

“So what do they say?” Jasper asked.

The expression on Clint’s face was grim when he sank down beside Phil again.  “It’s not good,” he said, holding out the translated notes for Phil to see.

Glancing over the page, Phil felt his blood run cold.  Something of what he was feeling must have shown on his face because a moment later, Phil felt Clint’s hand on his leg just above his knee.  Clint gave his leg a reassuring squeeze, Clint’s palm warm through the fabric of his jeans.  “They’re experimental notes,” he said.  “Part of a behavioural modification procedure.  Kiraly actually perfected the mind-control drug before we raided the AIM facility in Singapore.  That’s why he escaped in the chaos.  He didn’t want to share his findings with AIM.”

“Or the profits,” Clint added grimly.

There was a beat of silence.  “Are you telling me,” Jasper said, “that Kiraly has been experimenting on _human beings_ for the last month?”

Phil glanced around at the paradise surrounding them and for a moment, he wondered what other evil it hid.  “Yes,” he said, several things slotting into place in his mind.  “And whatever his end game is, he’s ready to try reintroducing his victims to the rest of the world.  That’s why Chen and Williams are supposedly coming back to the resort.  He’s testing to see if his drugs work.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Clint said.

“You said it, Hawk,” Jasper agreed.

Melinda met Phil’s eyes.  “Hurry, Jasper,” she said.  “We need to stop Kiraly before he can disappear again.”

“Yeah,” Jasper replied, before he hung up.

Not to long after that, Melinda said her goodbyes and left as well, heading back to the resort’s restaurant.  Phil stared out at the ocean for a while, his stomach twisting at all the gruesome possibilities Kiraly could be up to.  “You really think we can stop this?” Clint asked quietly.

Phil glanced at him, before tangling their fingers together and squeezing Clint’s hand reassuringly.  “We’re going to have to,” he replied.

~*~

 

 


	5. Operational Objective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Phil kick some ass and confess some feelings, and Jasper rides in to save the day (unnecessarily) with sarcasm.

“Do you see anything?”

Phil’s soft question had Clint glancing over.  With a smirk, he let his gaze sweep over Phil, his eyes lingering at the opened shirt collar that revealed the strong line of Phil’s throat.  Phil _always_ looked amazing in a well-tailored suit, but he’d gone without a tie tonight and Clint was having trouble keeping his mind on the task at hand.  He opened his mouth to reply, but Phil cut him off with an amused shake of his head.  “Do you see anything _mission related_?” he amended with a reluctant smile.

For a moment, the urge to lean across the table and press his lips to Phil's gripped Clint.  It wasn't the first time that evening.  He kept having to keep remind himself of all the Very Important Mission Things they had to do, so he didn’t drag Phil back to their villa and take advantage of the large bed.  “Clint?” Phil asked.

As common sense reasserted itself, Clint cleared his throat.  He shifted his eyes over the restaurant again, but everything still looked the same as it had for the last hour.  Couples were scattered around the tables, lingering over dinner like Clint and Phil, while the moon hung large and bright in the night sky.  The door to the deck was still open, letting in the cool, salt-laden breeze and the soft crash of waves against the shore.  Combined with the trio of musicians playing sultry jazz, the atmosphere was distinctly romantic.  Clint kind of hated the mission right now.  “Ah, there’s no sign of King or Kiraly and none of the couples are acting suspicious,” he said.

For the last two hours, he and Phil had been staking out the restaurant, waiting for either Kiraly or the missing couple to show up.  Melinda was hanging around too, playing waitress, but she hadn’t seen anything yet either.

A faint frown creased Phil’s forehead.  “I wonder what’s...” he began, before he went still.

Clint flicked his eyes towards the door and realized why Phil had tensed.  Kiraly was here.  The scientist had snuck in just behind King, dressed in a staff uniform.  Behind them, Ben Williams and Sylvia Chen walked in, happy smiles on their faces.  They looked nothing like a couple who been missing for five weeks.  Clint blinked.  “Holy shit,” he muttered.

As they watched, King escorted Williams and Chen to a table by the window.  The angle wasn’t the best, but Clint could see enough.  If he hadn’t known better, Clint wouldn’t have thought anything was wrong.  Williams and Chen were acting like a completely normal couple - Clint couldn’t see any tremors in their hands, no little glances at Kiraly.   _Nothing_ to show they’d ever been kidnapped.  “That’s freaky,” he said.

“You’re telling me,” Phil agreed.

Clint heard the soft rustle of fabric as Phil stood, but he still blinked up in surprise when he found Phil standing by his chair, hand outstretched.  “May I have this dance?” Phil asked, looking slightly amused.

“Uh, yeah,” Clint answered, letting Phil pull him to his feet.  “You really want to dance with me?”

“I really want to dance with you,” Phil said softly, sliding an arm around Clint’s waist and pulling him close.  “Besides, Williams and Chen’s table is right next to the dance floor.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Clint replied dryly, letting Phil lead the way.

There were only a few other couples dancing, but Phil smoothly pulled Clint into his arms when they hit the edge of the dance floor.  As Clint turned to face Phil, the music slid into something Clint’s vaguely recognized.  He took Phil’s hand as Phil pressed his other to the small of Clint’s back, Phil’s palm a solid point of warmth through the fabric of his dress shirt.  “So,” Clint said quietly as they began swaying to the music.  “What’s the plan?”

Phil sent him a dryly amused glance.  “I just wanted a closer look,” he answered.  “That, and Kiraly is watching us right now.”

As Clint looked into Phil’s eyes, he felt his insides do that curious melting thing they always did.  He was close enough that he could see the silver mixed with the blue, and he could feel the strength of Phil’s hidden muscle where they were pressed together.  A trace of Phil's cologne hung elusively in the air.  “Should we give him a show?” Clint asked, his voice coming out slightly rougher than normal.

Phil arched an eyebrow challengingly.  “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your mission objectives, Hawkeye,” he replied.

“Do you really think you can?” Clint asked with a smirk.  He’d never backed down from one of Coulson’s challenges in his life, and he wasn’t going to start now.

Chuckling softly, Phil lowered his head as he smoothly spun them around.  His warm breath brushed against Clint’s neck and jaw as Phil glanced over Clint’s shoulder at Kiraly.  “I can’t decide if Kiraly’s scrutiny is useful or disturbing,” Phil murmured.

The soft question in Clint’s ear sent a shiver down his spine, but he ignored it in favour of sweeping his eyes over the restaurant again.  Williams and Chen seemed to be conversing happily over two glasses of wine and not paying the rest of the room any attention at all.  King was playing waiter, but Clint noticed the way his gaze kept straying back to where he and Phil were dancing.  “I’d go with creepy,” he told Phil.  “King’s watching us too.  Do you think they’re planning something?”

“It’s definitely possible,” Phil said, before leaning back a little so Clint could see his face.  “We should probably try to convince them we’re not watching them back, don’t you think?”

Feeling his lips curve into a wicked smile, Clint swayed closer.  “Oh, really?”

Shifting, he slipped his hand out of Phil’s to wind his arms around the back of Phil’s neck.  The move pressed his body tighter against Phil’s, Phil’s hands coming to settle on his hips.  The sultry music wrapped around them, and Clint wished he could lose himself to the rhythm and the sensation of being in Phil’s arms, but they had a mission.  Over Phil’s shoulder, Clint caught sight of Williams heading towards the bar,  Kiraly trailing behind him.  He leaned forward, his lips brushing Phil’s jaw as he spoke.  “I just spotted Kiraly and Williams heading to the bar,” he said.  “Want me to head over and see if I can get Williams to talk to me?”

Phil’s hands tightened on his hips for a second.  “Be careful,” Phil told him.

“I’m always careful,” Clint quipped, before leaning forward and covering Phil’s mouth with his.  He made the kiss slow and deep, feeling a rush of primal satisfaction when Phil groaned helplessly against his lips and fisted a hand in his shirt.  Clint had slid his own hands inside Phil’s jacket, fingers splayed against Phil’s sides.  Phil kissed as devastatingly sneakily as he did most things, and Clint found himself sinking deeper against Phil’s chest as his knees weakened.  Clint could have stood there kissing Phil for hours, but he finally managed to wrench himself away a few moments later.  They had a mission to finish - but after that, all bets were off.

Phil blinked, looking dazed.  “What was that for?” he asked, his tone more than a little breathless.

“For luck,” Clint whispered, and reluctantly pulled out of Phil’s arms.  “I’ll go get you your drink, _darling_ ,” he drawled in a louder voice, waving a hand in the direction of the bar.

Crossing the dance floor towards the bar, Clint was conscious of Phil’s heavy gaze on him the whole way.  He refused to let himself get distracted, but the knowledge that Phil was watching his back was as comforting as always.  When he got to the bar, Ben Williams was almost slumped against the edge.  Clint flashed him a polite smile, before turning to the bartender.  He ordered Phil a scotch, making sure it was the expensive brand Phil’s cover preferred, watching Williams out of the corner of his eye the whole time.  Kiraly was hovering just behind Williams, keeping a sharp eye on him.  Clint could understand why.  Williams didn’t look good.  Offering the bartender another smile, Clint grabbed the drink and turned a little too fast.  Stumbling a little, he bumped right into Williams and managed to splash half the scotch onto Williams’ jacket sleeve.  “Oh, I am so sorry,” Clint said, letting his eyes grow wide.

Williams didn’t reply.  Clint felt a shiver run down his spine at the vacant, glassy expression in Williams’ eyes.  Sweat was beading on his forehead and this close, Clint could see a faint tremor in his hands he hadn’t picked up earlier.  Grabbing some napkins, Clint started mopping up the spilled drink.  As he did, he brushed his fingers along the back of Williams’ hand, shocked at how hot the skin felt.  Williams jerked back, his eyes going wide and his breath speeding up.  “Are you okay, man?” Clint asked.

“I’m… Are you hot?” Williams said, reaching up to tug at his shirt collar.  “I’m hot.  Think someone could turn up the A/C?”

“Yeah,” Clint said.  “I’m sure we can get someone to do that.”

“I’ll take care of it, sir,” King said smoothly, appearing beside Williams.  Clint didn’t miss the way King immediately grabbed Williams by the arm.

Out the corner of his eye, Clint noticed Kiraly slipping behind the bar.  He kept a watch on Kiraly’s movements, even as he smiled guilelessly at King.  “Sure,” he said.  “Thanks, man.”

“Your drink, sir,” Kiraly said, handing over the re-filled glass of scotch.

Clint didn’t know what the scientist had slipped into it, but Clint had seen Kiraly do something to the glass.  He took it anyway.  “Thanks,” he said.

Retreating back to where Phil was waiting for him on the edge of the dance floor, Clint kept the smile on his face as he handed Phil the glass.  “Don’t drink that,” he told Phil, even as Phil wrapped his arm around Clint’s waist.  “Kiraly put something in it.”

“Well,” Phil said, his eyes flicking over Clint’s shoulder towards the bar and Kiraly.  “Shall we take this outside?”

“That might be an idea,” Clint agreed.

Making a show of it, Phil leaned forward to kiss Clint again, casually setting the untouched glass down on a nearby table.  Pulling back, Phil grabbed Clint’s hand and began walking backwards, tugging Clint in the direction of the deck.  With a laugh he didn’t quite feel, Clint followed him.  He gave a large sigh of relief when they reached the cool night air outside, grateful to finally be away from Kiraly’s watchful stare.  He didn’t say anything when Phil slid an arm around his waist again, but Clint did sink against Phil’s chest a little.  “Are you okay?” Phil asked quietly.

Clint shivered, remembering Williams’ vacant eyes.  “It’s definitely mind control,” he said, letting Phil’s warmth soothe him.  “Sophisticated, too.  Williams spoke to me, but he went immediately docile when King touched him.”  Shivering again, Clint looked up at Phil.  “I don’t think it’s working right, either.  Williams complained about being hot and his skin felt like he had a fever.”

Phil frowned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over Clint’s shoulder at the restaurant.  “I don’t like where this is going,” he said, an undercurrent of steely anger in his voice.

“What are we going to do?” Clint asked.

Before Phil could answer, Jocelyn Beaumont appeared in the open doorway to the deck.  Her lips were twisted into a smile that was more of a grimace, Harris looming beside her.  Sliding his eyes towards Melinda, Clint realized King had cornered her, as Kiraly hustled Chen and Williams out the restaurant.  Next to Clint, Phil had tensed, but none of it showed on his face.  “Can I help you?” he asked, his tone painfully polite.

“Sir, you need to come with us, please,” Harris said, his smile as fixed as Beaumont’s as he gestured along the deck towards the beach.

Phil arched an eyebrow.  “Why?” he demanded.  The tone wasn’t quite the same as the one he used on the junior agents, but it was close.

Beaumont stepped forward.  “We’re hoping to close this section of the deck,” she replied.  “If you still want to enjoy the view, I assure you the beach is just as spectacular.”

Glancing back at the restaurant, Clint wished for his bow.  He flicked his gaze towards Beaumont and Harris and tried to hide the sudden tension running through him.  He knew where this was going.  Sure enough, as soon as Clint turned away to follow the deck, he felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.  Immediately pivoting, Clint brought his arm up, dislodging Harris’ grip.  In Harris’ other hand was a large, spring-loaded syringe and Clint didn’t want to find out what the hell was in it.  Grabbing Harris’ wrist, Clint shoved the syringe far away from his neck, and slammed his palm into Harris’ nose, breaking it.  Harris cried out in pain and Clint used the opportunity to shift his grip on Harris’ wrist.  With a carefully-placed jab to the pressure point just above Harris’ elbow, Clint wrenched Harris’ arm behind his back.  Harris struggled in Clint’s grip, until Clint slammed his head into the nearby deck railing, knocking him out.

Only then did Clint look over at Phil.  He’d been aware enough during his fight with Harris to know Phil had struggled briefly with Beaumont, but Clint hadn’t been able to spare more attention than that.  Sometime during or after his fight, Phil had lost his jacket and bright red blood was seeping through the fabric on his right sleeve from a long cut along his forearm.  When he caught Clint looking, he smiled faintly.  “Beaumont had a knife,” he said wryly.  “She also got away.”

After checking Harris wasn’t going anywhere, Clint stepped over to Phil, his attention fixed on Phil’s arm.  “I’m fine, Clint,” Phil said quietly, as Clint tore open Phil’s sleeve so he could better see the cut.  “It’s just a scratch.”

Frowning, Clint glanced up.  “Scratches don’t bleed like that,” he growled.

Phil huffed.  “It doesn’t even need stitches,” he protested.

“And is that your expert medical opinion?” Clint shot back.

Phil was prevented from replying by the sound of the sliding door to the deck opening again.  Clint tensed, but it was only Melinda.  Her dark eyes took in Phil’s arm and Harris’ unconscious body, before they slid back up to Clint and Phil.  She arched an eyebrow.  “Are you okay?” she asked.

“We handled it,” Clint replied.  “Are _you_ okay?”

For a second, the corner of Melinda’s mouth curved up into a smile.  “King is pretty heavy-handed with the threats.”  She shrugged.  “I’ve had better.”

Clint smirked back.  Then he gestured at Harris.  “I don’t suppose you know where we can stash this guy until the strike team gets here?”

“Somewhere in the villa should be good enough,” Phil said.  “We’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”

“Beaumont?” Clint asked.

“Beaumont,” Phil agreed grimly.  “As soon as she can, she’ll report in to King and Kiraly and warn them we’re more than we seem.”

“You’re worried they’ll start moving their operation,” Melinda said with a frown.

Phil let out a breath.  “Yes.  I don’t think we can afford to wait for Jasper and the strike team.”

Clint considered Phil’s unspoken plan for a moment.  It certainly wasn’t the riskiest thing they’d ever done and there were worse people than Phil and Melinda to have at his back.  “Well, then,” he said with a grin.  “What are we waiting for?”

~*~

Hiding in the shadows of a large tree, Phil kept his attention fixed on the buildings in front of him.  On his thigh, his holstered gun was a reassuring weight, and the pinch of the comm in his ear reminded Phil he had two very deadly people watching his back.  Despite Phil’s growing sense of premonition, the mission wasn’t going to end with him getting shot.

Probably.

After the confrontation at the restaurant, he, Clint and Melinda had retreated back to the villa to gear up, unwilling to wait until Jasper and the strike team arrived.  There was a growing itch under Phil’s skin that said if they didn’t move quickly, they were going to lose Kiraly.  Phil wasn't about to just let him disappear like he had in Singapore.  With a bit of luck and the cloned key card, they’d be able to stop Kiraly before he found any more victims to try his sick science on.  Before they'd left the villa, Phil had made sure to send a coded message to Jasper, just in case.  That way, if things did explode, at least Jasper would be able to swoop in and rescue them.

“You know,” Clint whispered, dropping down next to Phil.  “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

Phil let out a breath.  “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Me too.”

“Wherever the patrols are, they’re not here,” Melinda added, appearing on Phil’s other side.

The moon was hanging low in the sky, its light mostly hidden by cloud, and everything was dark and surprisingly silent.  Phil didn’t need his instincts as a field agent to tell him that was an ominous sign.  “We need to get inside the lab,” Clint said, his eyes fixed on the largest building.

Phil frowned.  It wasn’t that he disagreed – there was just something else going on that he couldn’t quite figure out.  He flicked his gaze to Melinda.  “Circle around,” he said.  “I want eyes on all sides of that building, but hold position until I give the order.”

Melinda nodded curtly, before vanishing into the trees.

“And us, Boss?” Clint asked, his voice low and his presence solid and reassuring at Phil’s shoulder.

“I want a closer look,” Phil replied.

Keeping low, Phil drew on the skills he’d perfected during his time in the Rangers.  His booted feet were almost silent as he crossed the open space in front of the smaller buildings, Clint a steady shadow at his side.  Dropping into a crouch as he spotted the glimmer of a flashlight in the distance, Phil flattened himself against the wall of the nearest building.  With a little luck, his dark clothes would blend into the darkness and the patrol wouldn’t head in his direction.  “Looks like we found the patrols,” Clint quipped, his voice barely a breath in Phil’s ear.

“Yes, but why aren’t they covering this side of the main building?” Phil replied.  “Do you see anything on your end, Cavalry?”

There was a moment of silence over the comms.  Phil didn’t need to see her to know Melinda was giving him a dark glare at using the nickname several junior agents had bestowed upon her.  “There are mercenaries covering the clearing,” she replied.

Phil opened his mouth to ask another question, but his words were cut off by the distinctive whine of engines cutting through the night air.  “Shit!” Clint cursed, his eyes going wide.  “Kiraly has a plane!”

“He’s using the clearing as an airstrip,” Melinda said tersely.

“The bastards are trying to escape,” Clint growled.  “Permission to head east and cut them off?”

“Go,” Phil replied, barely waiting for Clint to finish.

Clint disappeared into the trees like a shot, his hand automatically sliding his bow off his shoulder as he did.  For a second, Phil watched him, his stomach clenching as the familiar sense of worry settled over him the way it always did.  Shaking off his distraction, Phil took off at a run, heading straight for the other side of the buildings.  A million thoughts spun through his head as he did.  Phil hoped that he, Melinda and Clint would be enough to stop Kiraly before Jasper and the strike team could arrive.

Hitting the sand of the beach, Phil paused for a second to scout out if any of the mercenaries were lying in wait.  There was a cool breeze coming off the ocean and Phil shivered, watching as the moon came out from behind a cloud.  The shadows of two mercenaries patrolling further up, but they appeared to be the only obstacle between Phil and the clearing.  Slowly, Phil let out a breath and tried to ignore the way adrenaline was making his heart beat faster.  He needed to get closer to the plane before either Clint or Melinda broke cover and did something reckless.  After another few seconds watching the mercenaries, Phil crept down the beach.  Using the nearby smaller buildings for what cover he could, he managed to sneak within a few steps of the first mercenary.  Cursing under his breath when the man shifted as if he was about to turn, Phil lunged forwards.

Crossing the remaining space between them, Phil wrapped an arm around the man’s throat, and put pressure on the carotid artery.  Gritting his teeth as the mercenary gave a choked shout, Phil tightened his grip and ignored the struggles.  Ten seconds later, the mercenary sagged into unconsciousness.  Unfortunately, before Phil could move, the second mercenary turned around.  For a second, everything seemed to slow as the mercenary’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to shout.  Acting on instinct, Phil drew one of his matte black combat knives, flipped it in his hand and threw.  He might not have had the accuracy of Clint or Natasha, but his knife still hit its target.  The mercenary gave a cut-off shout and slumped to the sand.

“Coulson, where are you?” Clint’s tense voice crackled over the comms.

“I’m in position on the west side of the clearing now,” Phil replied.

Phil peered around the corner of the building.  A small private plane was now sitting in the middle of the clearing, a makeshift airstrip spread out behind it.  Men dressed in black swarmed around it, loading crates and boxes into the hold.  Unlike two days before, the mercenaries were now armed with M16 rifles and looked a lot more twitchy.  Two of the mercenaries held guns on a group of cowering men and women.  Sucking in a sharp breath, Phil realized they were the victims they’d been searching for.  Kiraly and King stood beside them, arguing about something, while Beaumont was overseeing the loading of the plane.  “We need to disable that plane,” Phil said grimly.  “We can’t let Kiraly escape.”

“Got any ideas how to do that?” Clint asked.

Phil winced.  “Not any good ones.”

“So we just take them out,” Melinda said.

Scanning the scene again, Phil began calculating the odds.  “Barton, take out the mercenaries guarding the victims first.  Our priority is Kiraly, but those people need our help.”

“What about taking out Kiraly?” Clint asked.  There was a low undercurrent of anger in his voice.

“If we can, we take him alive,” Phil ordered.

Clint didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to.  Phil knew he understood.

“I think I’ve got a way to the plane,” Melinda said quietly.  “Hawk, can you give me covering fire in fifteen seconds?”

“You got it,” Clint told her.

Phil counted down the seconds in his head, keeping his eyes fixed on Kiraly.  He didn’t doubt that Clint could take out the mercenaries from wherever he was hiding, but he also expected Kiraly and King to dive for cover as soon as the shooting started.  After the events in Singapore, Phil figured Kiraly was more likely to save his own skin than save his research.  Right on cue, Clint’s first arrow sliced through the darkness and slammed into the shoulder of one of the guards.  The second mercenary gave a shout of alarm and brought up his gun, even as a second arrow came flying out of the trees.  Both Kiraly and King ducked behind a pile of crates as Clint continued to take out the mercenaries.  At the same time, Melinda moved forward at her ruthless best.  She’d taken out two of the men keeping watch and was moving towards the plane with unrelenting efficiency.

Spotting movement to his right, Phil turned to find Kiraly running for the trees.  Drawing his gun, Phil was following after him before he even really registered it.  “Kiraly’s attempting to escape back to the resort,” he said.  “I’m in pursuit.”

A mercenary whirled on him as soon as he broke cover.  Dodging the butt of the rifle heading towards his face, Phil spun away from the blow and elbowed the mercenary in the stomach as he turned.  The sand hampered his movements a little, but it wasn’t anything Phil hadn’t fought in before.  Kicking out the man’s knee, Phil slammed a fist into his jaw and sent him sprawling.  Glancing up, he took after Kiraly again, his gun held loosely in front of him.  Hitting the trees, Phil blinked in the sudden darkness.  Slowing, he waited for his eyes to adjust, even as he searched for Kiraly’s path through the rainforest.  Heading further away from the clearing, Phil crept around a large bush, following the flash of white that was Kiraly’s shirt.  A second later, Phil felt his heart freeze in his chest as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

Stupidly, he’d forgotten about King.

“I’ll take that, Mr Cole,” King said with a nasty smile, twisting the gun from Phil’s hands.  “If Cole is actually your name.”

Refusing to let the swelling fear take hold, Phil clenched his jaw and glared silently at King.  “Coulson, what’s your position?” Melinda asked over the comm.  Phil didn’t dare answer her.  “Coulson?”

Kiraly walked out of the shadows into a shaft of moonlight and King handed him Phil’s gun, his eyes never leaving Phil.  “Keep your hands where I can see them and walk towards the beach,” King ordered.  “Don’t think I won’t shoot you.”

Doing as instructed, Phil made sure to keep his hands away from his body as he turned around.  He was still armed with several knives, but Phil didn’t want to take the chance with two guns pointed in his direction.  Besides, the beach had Clint.  Phil was willing to bet King hadn’t counted on dealing with the World’s Greatest Marksman.

“Hawk, do you have eyes on Coulson?” Melinda asked as the sounds of fighting got louder.

“Negative,” Clint replied and Phil could hear the worry in his voice.

As he, Kiraly and King neared the edge of the rainforest, King gave Phil a shove and sent him staggering onto the beach.  Clint and Melinda immediately spun in his direction, the sand around them littered with the unconscious bodies of mercenaries.  Near the plane, the victims were still huddled in a tight group, but they were unbound.  Near them, Beaumont had been knocked out and apparently tied to a large, heavy crate.  As if realizing Clint and Melinda had their weapons trained on him, King grabbed Phil roughly from behind.  Cold metal jabbed painfully under Phil’s jaw as King made sure Clint and Melinda could see the gun he held on Phil.  Phil felt his heart start to pound, but mostly his attention was fixed on Clint.  The archer had stilled like a predator about to strike, an arrow nocked onto the string of his bow.  Clint’s narrowed eyes burned with an anger Phil hadn’t seen in them before - Clint had weathered pranks, insults and the hardships of his life without looking as uncontrollably mad as he did then.  Phil swallowed, suddenly unsure of what Clint was about to do.

“Everybody keep your hands where I can see them!” King bellowed from behind him.

Letting out a slow breath, Phil carefully met Clint’s gaze.  He held his body loose, ready to move in whichever way Clint needed and tried to let that unshakable trust show on his face.  For a second, the corner of Clint’s mouth turned up in a smirk.

Then all hell broke loose.

~*~

The second he’d seen movement, Clint had his bow drawn and an arrow nocked before he’d even finished processing what was going on.  When he realized what he was seeing, his blood turned to ice.  Phil was standing at the edge of the trees, his hands held out to the side and King's gun jammed under his chin.  For a moment, the world seemed to go painfully sharp, and Clint's stomach clenched as if someone had reached down his throat to try and yank it out.  After all the years and the pining and the longing, Clint was not about to let that _bastard_ hurt Phil.

“Everybody keep your hands where I can see them!” King shouted, hiding behind Phil like the coward he was.

Clint’s fingers twitched on the bow string, rage burning through him.  He really, really wanted to put an arrow into both King and Kiraly.  Melinda stepped closer, still covering the AIM scientist.  “Breath, Hawk,” she whispered.  “You still with me?”

“Yeah,” Clint replied, his voice hoarse.  “I’m with you.”

Meeting Phil’s eyes, Clint was blown away by the sheer amount of trust in that blue gaze.  He’d always known Phil trusted him – they wouldn’t have been such an effective team if he hadn’t – but seeing it was different.  Clint couldn’t stop a small smirk when he saw the way Phil was holding himself loose and alert, ready to take King down the second he got the opportunity.  Fuck, Clint loved that dorky badass.  And he sure as hell wasn’t about to let anything happen to Phil before he got a chance to say that, either.

Of course, that was the moment everything went to shit.

One minute the the beach was still, humming only with the tension of the standoff, the sky slowly lightening as dawn inched closer.  The next, a burst of gunfire was tearing up the vegetation as one of the mercenaries staggered to his feet.  Cursing, Clint pivoted to his left and loosed the arrow.  The man went down with a wet gurgle, an arrow through his throat.  Nocking another arrow, Clint turned back to where King and Phil had been standing, just in time to see Phil yank the gun away from his throat.  The movement clearly surprised King and Phil had twisted away before the other man could stop him.  King’s finger twitched on the trigger, the bullet splintering a nearby crate.

Suddenly, the air was filled with a familiar rumble, and a quinjet swooped over the rainforest to hover over the beach.  The back ramp was open, Jasper grimly holding onto the side as he peered out, his gun drawn.  The jet had caught King’s attention and Phil used the distraction to tear himself completely free of King’s grip.  With an arrow still drawn on King, Clint didn’t need a better opportunity than that.  He took King out with a carefully placed arrow to the thigh, before Phil knocked him out with a sharp kick to the head.

“I thought I told you assholes to wait for the strike team!” Jasper yelled as the jet set down and a swarm of heavily-armed SHIELD agents flooded out the back.

A quick glance around proved none of the other mercenaries were moving, and Melinda had successfully hog-tied Kiraly to stop him going anywhere.  “We had it handled,” Melinda called back to Jasper.

With the immediate danger dealt with, Clint lowered his bow and let out a shaking breath.  Everything was still sharp and loud thanks to the lingering rush of adrenaline, yet somehow Jasper and Melinda’s argument had also faded into the background.  Clint was barely aware of the sand being whipped up by the slowing quinjet engines, or the shouts of the strike team as they began checking victims and securing bad guys.  The only thing Clint could do was stare helplessly at Phil, and try to persuade his still pounding heart that Phil was okay.  Phil’s gaze met his again, his whole face pinched with concern, and when another agent walked over, Phil waved her off.

Clint blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, Phil was in front of him.  “Clint?” he asked softly.  “Are you okay?”

Realizing his hand was clenched tightly around his bow, Clint let out a breath and deliberately relaxed his grip.  “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Clint replied, but there was something wrong with his voice.

Phil reached up to cup his cheek, his thumb sliding over Clint’s cheekbone.  Clint closed his eyes again as he felt his body start to shake.  “Hey,” Phil said, gathering Clint up in his arms.  “I’m okay.”

Clint was absently surprised at Phil Coulson being so affectionate in front of a whole strike team’s worth of junior agents, but mostly he was just happy to cling back.  Phil ran a soothing hand up and down his back, and after a few minutes, Clint felt the shaking ease a little.  “I’m okay,” Phil whispered again.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, fisting his hand in Phil’s shirt.  “I know.”

Eventually Phil pulled back a little, but he didn’t go far.  His eyes searched Clint’s for a moment, before the corner of his mouth curled up into an amused smirk.  Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Clint’s.  In front of the junior agents.  If Clint hadn’t still been dealing with the paralyzing fear of King holding a gun on Phil, he might have laughed.  Instead, he just shifted closer and kissed back.  The kiss started off gentle and a little hesitant, but it soon turned desperate as Clint let himself think about how close he’d come to losing Phil.  Pulling back when the urge to breath became insistent, Clint rested his forehead against Phil’s for a moment.  “I thought I’d lost you for a moment there,” he said softly.

Phil ran a hand over Clint’s jaw again.  “I wasn’t worried,” he whispered back.  “I knew you had my back.”

Clint tightened his grip around Phil, never wanting to let him go.  “Shit, Phil,” he said, dragging Phil back in for another kiss.

“Hey!” Jasper called out, and when Clint turned, he saw the mad grin on Jasper’s face.  “You two do realize that part of the mission is over, right?”

“Fuck off, Jasper,” Phil called back, but made no move to pull away from Clint.

Pretending he couldn’t feel all the curious stares of the junior agents, Clint smiled.  “We’re going to be the number one topic of gossip for the next month,” he grumbled.

“They’ll get bored of us in a week,” Phil replied.  “Besides, you’re worth it.”

Clint felt his smile widen as warmth and giddiness burst through his chest.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, before he shrugged.  “I love you.”

The tops of Phil’s ears went pink at the declaration, but his eyes never left Clint’s.  Clint was pretty sure his grin was going to split his face.  Carefully, he wound his arms around Phil’s neck.  “I guess it’s just as well I’m in love with you too, huh?”

Phil rolled his eyes in reply, but the soft smile on his face told Clint just how happy he was.  Clint resolved to try and make Phil look that happy as often as he could.  “Funny,” Phil muttered, leaning down for a brief kiss.

“Okay, that’s it!” Jasper shouted.  “No more sucking face.  You’re going to mentally scar the junior agents!”

With a huff, Clint stepped back and leveled a dark glare on Jasper.  Sadly, the other agent proved immune and just raised his eyebrows pointedly back.  From where she stood beside Jasper, Melinda sent him a wink.  “You’re just jealous!” Clint shot back, making Melinda laugh.

Phil’s hand brushed against his, a beat before he tangled their fingers together.  Clint had to bite his lip so he didn’t scare the junior agents with another giddy grin.  Glancing at Phil, he snorted as Phil bumped Clint’s shoulder with his.  “Come on,” Phil said with a sigh.  “We’d better go help with the clean up before Jasper becomes unbearable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered back, but followed all the same.  “He should just be grateful we won him a hundred buck in the betting pool!”

~*~

After the long hours of clean up and coordinating with local authorities, Phil finally managed to jump on a quinjet headed back to New York.  Unfortunately, Melinda and Jasper were also on the jet.  The teasing was irritating, and eventually, Phil had closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep to get away from it.  Feigning sleep had turned into actual sleep, despite the uncomfortable seats, as his exhaustion dragged him under.  Clint had been a solid presence curled around him, radiating warmth.  Phil jolted awake when they touched down at SHIELD headquarters, almost as tired as he'd been before he'd slept.  All Phil was really looked forward to was a hot shower and solid eight hours sleep.  Deliberately, Phil stopped himself thinking about the possibility of Clint joining him.  Despite what they’d confessed on the mission, Phil didn’t want to rush anything before Clint was ready.  Moving Clint into his apartment as soon as they got free of debrief was probably going a bit fast.  And while Phil definitely wouldn’t say no to a chance to getting Clint naked, that also wasn’t what he really wanted.  If he could, Phil would have liked to wake up tomorrow morning with Clint curled around him, warm and happy.  He just wasn’t quite sure how to ask.

Staggering out of the jet, Phil frowned when he found Nick Fury waiting for them, Natasha at his shoulder.  Nick grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself when his gaze strayed to where Phil’s fingers were still tangled with Clint’s.  A sense of premonition washed over Phil as he suddenly realized what his sneaky old friend had done.  “Oh, that bastard,” he growled.

Clint blinked.  “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Phil told him quietly.  “Nick’s just going to be insufferably smug for a while.”

Biting back a yawn, Clint glanced over at the Director.  His eyes went wide when he worked out what Phil had.  “Holy shit!” he said.  “Fury set this up!”

Nick arched an eyebrow as they walked up.  “Actually, Barton, I just used one situation to solve two problems.  Your pining was getting ridiculous, Cheese,” he replied.  “Besides, it was more of a group effort, really.”

“I… that’s…” Phil stammered, feeling his ears heat.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jasper almost doubled over with silent laughter.  Phil sighed.  “Thanks, Nick,” he added dryly.

“Really?” Nick replied flatly.  “You finally get what you’ve always wanted and you’re going to be an asshole about it?”

Phil glared back.

“Please,” Jasper said, finally regaining his voice.  “You weren’t the one who had to watch Coulson shove his tongue down Hawkeye’s throat.”

“I was kind of impressed,” Melinda added.  “I thought we’d have to deal Coulson moping for at least a week longer before he got his act together.”

Clint snorted.  “Like I’d let him run away after I got my hands on that ass.”

Phil turned an arched eyebrow on Clint, resigning himself to giving into the inevitable teasing.  “What?” Clint defended.  “Shouldn’t you be glad I like your ass?”

Phil sighed.  “You know what?” he said, turning back to Nick.  “I want a shower and eight hours sleep.  You can debrief me after that.  Feel free to think up as many jokes and puns as you want in the meantime.”

Shaking her head, Natasha stepped forwards, cutting off whatever Jasper had been about to say.  There was still a slight limp to her gait, but she wasn’t leaning on a cane anymore and she looked much better.  Phil was very glad to see that.  “Congratulations,” she said, pulling Phil into a brief hug.  “I’m happy for you both.”

“Thanks, Tash,” Phil replied quietly.

She repeated the hug with Clint, who hugged her back tightly as she whispered something in his ear.  Clint’s eyes went wide, before his cheeks heated.  “Nat!” he hissed.

Natasha simply shrugged, but there was a devious glint in her eye that Phil knew meant she was up to something.  Deciding not to think about it, he glanced at Clint and cocked his head.  “Shall we?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Clint agreed, clearing his throat.  “Let’s go.”

Before Phil could retreat inside the SHIELD offices, Nick gave a short chuckle.  “Hey, Cheese?” he said, laughter dancing in his gaze.  “Don’t forget to check your left hand before you shower.”

Looking down past his rumbled combat gear, Phil blinked a little at the gold metal that still gleamed around his ring finger.  He felt his face heat as he realized that he’d never taken off his fake wedding ring in his rush to stop King and Kiraly.  Or in the hours after that.  He’d just… forgotten.  Clint moved so that he was suddenly in front of Phil, his own left hand covering Phil’s.  Blinking again, Phil lifted his face to stare at Clint.  Clint, who was also still wearing his fake wedding ring.  Happiness unfurled in Phil’s chest, warm and solid.  He felt something bright sitting just over the horizon as he understood Clint’s unspoken words.  They might not be ready to discuss it just yet, but the possibility was out there now, and all they had to do was catch up.

He smiled and Clint grinned back, before his expression slid into a teasing smirk.  “So… nap?” he said.

“Yes,” Phil agreed, almost dragging Clint behind him as he headed for his quarters.  “Nap.  All the napping.”

Clint laughed, bright and happy.

~*~

 

 


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, here is the final (sappy fluffy) part to my fic. Thank you to everyone who left comments/kudos. You all rock! <3

_18 hours later_

It was late.  Clint wasn't exactly sure how late, but he was pretty sure it wasn't more than a few hours after midnight.  He knew he should be asleep - who knew when the next crisis would intrude? - but he couldn't make himself close his eyes.  Beside him, Phil was sleeping soundly, his arm heavy where it was slung over Clint’s waist.  Moonlight filtered in through a crack in the curtains, bathing the room in shadows and painting Phil’s skin silver.  Relaxed in sleep, Phil didn't exactly look younger, but there was an ease that he didn't usually have.  There was no subtle tension in his shoulders now, and Phil was sprawled out across the bed, taking up more than half the space.  Clint couldn't help his smile at the sight.

Before Clint's brain could tell him it was a bad idea, he was reaching out to trace the pattern of freckles across the warm skin of Phil’s shoulder.  Maybe it was the temptation of seeing Phil so soft around the edges, or maybe it was the newness of what had changed between them.  Clint wasn't sure where the impulse had come from, but he couldn't resist.  He was a little surprised the touch hadn't woken Phil, because he'd seen Phil snap awake on missions from far less.  Although, if he really thought about it, Clint knew why Phil was still sleeping peacefully.  The evidence of Phil's bone-deep _trust_ in Clint made his breath catch in his lungs.

Shifting, Clint slid his fingers up and over Phil’s jaw, reveling in the rasp of stubble.  He could feel the warm puffs of Phil’s breath, and Clint had to bite back the urge to lean forwards and press his lips to Phil’s.  Asleep, Phil’s expression was peaceful in a way Clint had rarely seen.  He wanted to make Phil look like that as often as he could.  It was in moments like this that Clint couldn't understand how Phil didn't see how attractive he was.  Admittedly, Agent Coulson had a pretty formidable stare that had been known to send junior agents scattering for fear of his wrath.  Yet, over the years, Clint had seen so many other sides to Phil.  The Phil Clint knew had an adorable grin when he found a cool new piece of technology or Cap memorabilia, and made sassy comments when he thought no one was listening to him anymore.  Clint had seen the frayed knees of Phil's favourite jeans, and watched Phil hunt bleary-eyed for coffee on almost every continent.  How that had led to Clint sharing his bed, and having Phil Coulson love him back, Clint didn't know, but he was going to do everything he could to keep it.

Phil stirred, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.  Rather than pull his fingers back, Clint gently traced them up Phil’s nose, brushing over the bump where it had been broken twice.  From there, it seemed natural to map the dark curve of Phil’s eyebrow and slide his fingers into the soft strands of Phil’s hair.  Sighing softly, Phil instinctively tightened his arm around Clint’s waist, and nuzzled closer.  Clint couldn't help his goofy grin, even as he bit his lip to try and hide it.  Every time Phil pulled him near, the warmth in Clint’s chest solidified a little more.  “Clint,” Phil mumbled, his voice raspy with exhaustion.  “Sleep.”

Clint wasn’t sure if that was a command or a question, but either way he regretted waking Phil.  “Sorry,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the bare skin of Phil’s shoulder.

Humming, Phil shifted and blinked open his eyes.  “Is something wrong?” he asked sleepily.

His thoughts drifting to the evening before, Clint ducked his head and felt his cheeks heat.  After the debrief, Phil had shyly invited Clint back to his apartment, and one thing had led to another until Clint was pressing a naked Phil into the sheets.  It still felt almost like a dream that would vanish into wisps with the dawn.  Looking at Phil, Clint didn't know how to explain the feelings threatening to burst out of his chest.  Being in Phil's bed and his life was something Clint had never thought he could have, and Clint couldn't stop the fear that he wasn't good enough to deserve it.  Clint knew his fears were only echoes of his past, but he couldn't entirely banish them in the dark.  “No, nothing’s wrong,” his said softly, his eyes dropping to Phil chest.  Carefully, he slid his hand down Phil arm until it rested over Phil’s heart.  “I just…”  He let Phil’s steady heartbeat soothe him for a moment.  “Part of me is still scared this might be a dream.  I’m not used to getting everything I want.”

“It’s real,” Phil said, his hand coming up to cover Clint’s.  “I promise.”  Lifting Clint’s hand, Phil pressed a kiss to Clint’s knuckles.  Then he uncurled Clint’s fingers so he could kiss Clint’s palm.  “You’ve got me for as long as you want me.”

There was still a trace of uncertainty in Phil’s warm, blue eyes, an echo of Clint’s.  “I’m pretty sure the answer to that is still forever,” Clint told him.

Phil blushed, and now that Clint had finally gotten him naked he could see exactly how far down that blush went.  Yawning widely, Clint was thwarted from his plans to take advantage of Phil’s lack of clothing.  “Sleep,” Phil said, pressing a kiss to Clint’s forehead.

Grumbling a little, Clint let Phil prod him until Clint was exactly where he wanted.  They ended up tangled together, Clint’s nose pressed into the space between Phil’s shoulder and neck.  With Phil’s hand stroking up and down his back, Clint could feel sleep stealing over him again.  “Mmm… pancakes in the morning?” he asked.

“Sure,” Phil replied softly.  “I’ll take you wherever you want for breakfast.”

“Awesome,” Clint said with a happy sigh.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Phil whispered.  “I… well, I won’t have time for that sort of thing after we go back to work on Thursday.”

Clint shifted closer, pressing a kiss to Phil’s neck.  “So I’ll consider this our mini-honeymoon,” he said.  “Besides, it won’t be the first time I’ve seen you before coffee.  I can deal.”

“Yeah?” Phil replied.

“Yeah,” Clint said firmly, tilting his head up.  He smiled when Phil obliged him with a kiss.  “You’re worth it, Phil.  You’ll always be worth it.”

He laughed when Phil suddenly flipped them over so he could pin Clint to the bed.  Phil's eyes were dark and his hair stood up from where Clint's fingers had been in it, and he was the best thing Clint had ever seen.  For the first time in his life, Clint could see the person he loved staying by his side forever.  To keep Phil, Clint already knew he would fight until his last breath.  He was still smiling when Phil leaned down to kiss him, perfectly content to let his thoughts slide away.  There would be plenty of time to think about the future in the morning.  Right now he had better things to do.

  
Fin.


End file.
